#I'm just sorry I never told either of them that I admire them as actresses I just launched into a schpiel about my own work

[akaanonymouth]

@briliantlybittr

It just poured out of me. This is how I write most of my fics, and develop most of my deep headcanons; slightly drunk with no filter, and just write 😂 Having said that, I was going to add to my post that maybe my thoughts are influenced by meeting Catherine and Jemma irl. Met Catherine after Bath; I hung back, there were a few fanatics surrounding her doing selfies and voicemails and what-not, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could pluck up the courage to speak to her; I was there on my own. It was the last night and she was evidently wanting to get away with her family, but as she was walking past me, she saw my notebook open and was like “do you want…[eyebrow raise]” I’ll never stop being ashamed of this till the day I die: I didn’t tell her I really admired her; I didn’t tell her I thought her performance was awesome; I was so aware that she was trying to go with her family that I just went “Just….just two minutes of your time…” and launched into a schpiel about my art and how I wanted her to contribute. She did, fair play, but when I decided to drive to London for the Berena con (I’m sure it was a ComicCon really, but I wouldn’t know) I honestly knew I couldn’t look Catherine in the chops, even though she 100% wouldn’t have remembered me. So I went to Jemma, bc I wanted her to contribute to the same art project that Catherine had, and she was so, so sweet (@marshfritillary can attest!) and it was beautiful, and then I had a photo with them both, and I just about held it together, but when I first walked up to the photo opp, I addressed th both with a quip, and Jemma started replying, but the photographer cut her off with a “smile!” and when I walked away, I could only look at Catherine and say thank you, bc by that point, I was a wreck and I knew Jemma owned my soul. But I was amazingly calm around Jemma in B'ham. I referred to the week previous in London where she’d contributed to my art project, and I gave her the 1st draft of the result, and she was so lovely. And basically, I said to her, “this is what I do, because I’m an eternal procrastinator, so by giving this to you, it’s gonna force me to do something with it.” And she was just like “thank you so much, that’s lovely.” And I have a lot of anxiety about not telling her (or Catherine, when I met her) that she was awesome in all of her roles, and I really admire her, but what I have to Jemma, had a bit of a blurb at the start, whereupon I not only said I was an eternal procrastinator and that’s why I was giving it to her, but that she was beautiful, and awesome, amazing etc (that’s how I wrote it, it was like a P.s. I’m a bit mortified) It was all about kindness and then we had a massive conversation about being kind to yourself, and then in the Q&A, someone asked her “if you could give your younger self a piece of advice, what would it be?” and she paused and said (and this may be wishful thinking, but her eyes scanned the room and landed) “Don’t procrastinate. Anything you want to do, just do it.” And something along the lines of “There is no other time.”

Anyway. TL;DR. I’d fall apart around both of them, but I can hold my shit together around Jemma more. Which makes me think that Serena would make me absolutely fall to pieces, whereas I could hold my own with Bernie.

Also, the three year old. God bless! My boy (he’s not mine but he may as well be) turned 4 end of July, and just started full time school. He cries every morning going in, the TA cwtshes him to sleep, he wakes up happy, then cries a bit at lunchtime because he hates the noise in the canteen and they have to walk past the nursery where he thinks he should be. It’s been 3 days in big school and I’m ready to whisk him away to the Amazon jungle forever just to see him smile again - this boy was made to be Tarzan, with Ape Mam cuddles, a ponytail, and sparkly nails.

[moody-cowdaddy]

Friends in Low Places [Part 2 - End]

Arthur Morgan x Reader | Imagine #2

Summary: You finally make it back to Horseshoe Overlook with Arthur.

Category: Action, Fluff, First Meeting.

After riding for a while, Arthur's horse came to a stop in a wooded area that sat on top of a hill. The area surrounding you was lit up by a campfires, along with more than a few tents and wagons that were set up all along the perimeter. He clearly hadn't lied to you about a camp, there had to be at least 20 people here.

"Home sweet home," Arthur said, turning his head back to you.

He threw his leg over the filly before dropping down to the ground. He reached up for you to take his hand. You reached down, wrapping your slender fingers around his, his hands were rough and calloused, with a firm grip. He helped you keep your balance as you dropped to the ground. Clearly, the folks around here didn't miss a beat, as soon as your feet hit the dirt, a tall man with dark hair and mustache came barreling towards the two of you from the raging campfire that sat in the middle of the camp as the rest of the residents looked on, nervously. The man's hands were at his hip, ready to draw his gun at a moment's notice.

[[MORE]]

"Arthur," the man barked, pointing in your direction with a scowl, "Who is this?"

You shot Arthur a nervous glance. He returned a reassuring nod of his head to you before turning his attention back to the man, holding his hands out as he walked forward to separate him from getting over to you. But you peeked over Arthur's shoulder to get a gander at what was going on.

"Calm down, Dutch. It's safe. The girl just needed a place to stay tonight," Arthur gestured to you.

"Safe?" The man he had called Dutch repeated. "Arthur, are you forgettin' that we just barely made it out of Blackwater alive?" He shifted his eyes to you. "She could be workin' with those Pinkertons just like the rest."

Arthur hummed, seemingly in disbelief at the sheer paranoia that the man in front of him was presenting. "Well, she's one hell of an actress then, I'm bettin'."

You took a step forward,"I'm not the law, if that's your concern.. sir"

"Hell, she robbed a man before we high-tailed it outta there." Arthur spoke, throwing his hand up to rest on his gunbelt.

"It's true." You nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Is that supposed to ease my mind?" Dutch looked between the two of you, "I told you to keep a low profile, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, "Sure. An' I have been. Fella was gettin' rough with her, so I handled it. All I'm askin' for is the night, Dutch."

Dutch looked at the two of you again before letting out a tiresome breath. "Just the night," he said before turning to you directly, "This ain't no handout camp."

You gave him a thankful expression, "I hadn't expected that it was." You reached down into your pocket to pull out the gold pocketwatch you had lifted off Jack. "How's gold plated sound?" You handed it over to him.

Dutch looked flabergasted at what he was witnessing. You had figured that he thought Arthur's comment about you robbing somebody was bullshit, but this was the thing to prove him wrong. He took the pocketwatch from your grasp, rolling it over and over between his fingers, inspecting it before a pleased expression came over his face as he finally placed it down into his own pocket. He looked down at you and gave you an acknowledging nod.

"We have food if you're hungry, and I'm sure Mr. Morgan will show you where you can lay your head for the night," he said, exchanging glances turning on his heel and walked back over to the others.

"Damn," Arthur whistled as he turned back to his horse, unstrapping the bedroll that was tied to it's saddle. "If I had known a pocketwatch was all it took for Dutch to stop his fussin', I would have tried it years ago."

"The first one's free." You smiled at him.

He smirked and tucked the bedroll under his arm, motioning for you to follow behind him as he led you through the camp. You were still receiving a few odd looks from people as they sat around the campfire, wondering who you were.

"Howdy." you said politely, giving a nod to the few men and women who scanned their eyes over you as you passed by.

A few of them nodded back at you, giving half-hearted smiles. Arthur led you over to a wagon that was setup as a makeshift sleeping tent, complete with a cot and small rickety table beside it.

"This is mine. Ain't much, but it'll keep you from layin' your head in the dirt. Take the cot," he said, unfolding the bedroll and placing it on the ground across from you. "I'll take the ground."

"No, Mister Morgan," you shook your head, "I couldn't possibly."

He held a hand up to stop your protest, "You can," he gestured to the cot, "I insist."

You sighed bemusingly and nodded, knowing he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. "Just for tonight."

"'Course." he shrugged, pulling his hat off as he lowered himself down to the bedroll.

You sat down on the edge of the cot, checking out your surroundings as you pulled off your coat. You looked over to the small table that was setup beside the cot, your gaze landed on a few odds and ends laying on it, including a picture of a woman.

"Would that be a lucky lady, or family?" You said, staring at the old photo.

Arthur squinted, looking over in your direction. He followed your eyes to the framed photo and gave you a small chuckle. "No such luck. That's my momma. She died when I was a kid."

"Oh," you said, turning back, "I'm sorry to hear that."

He shook his head, "No harm done. It's been years, feels like a lifetime ago."

You hummed, "I never knew my parents. Died when I was around 5."

"Shit," Arthur said, his rough voice going soft, "That's no way for a girl to have to grow up."

You shrugged, "Not so terrible, I reckon. But that's a story for another time, I guess."

You glanced over at the photo one last time before pulling yourself down onto the cot. You pulled your jacket over you as cover. The night air was still cool, and the stars were shining brightly tonight. It was nice to be able to stay outside and see them again. There low mumbling from the few people still around the slowly dying campire, the crackling of it's flames and the various sounds from the wildlife hidden within the dense collection of trees in the forest beyond being the only sound filling the night air.

You watched Arthur as he settled down onto the ground, kicking his feet up as he laid his head down onto a rolled up blanket. Luckily the night air was warm, so there wasn't wasn't a whole lot of need for any cover. You secretly stared at the man for a moment, before lowering yourself down onto the cot. There was something about this man that made you feel safe, even though you had barely known him for two hours, and Lord, he wasn't bad on the eyes either.

"Goodnight, Mr. Morgan," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Night, Ms. (Y/L/N)," he said, tipping his hat to you before pulling it down over his eyes.

It had been quit a while since you had a proper night's rest, and before you knew it you were out like a light.

~

When you woke up the next morning, there was a cool breeze in the air and the sound of birds chirps echoed from the trees. It had been a long time since you had a good night's rest, and now you were thankful that Arthur lended you his cot for the night.

You cracked your tired eyes open, letting them adjust to the morning sunlight that was now beginning to peek through the tent. Most of everyone in the camp seemed to be up and about already, including Arthur. You sat up on the cot, alone in his tent, rubbing the sleep away from your weary eyes.

After a moment, there was a sound of a throat clearing as you brought your eyes up to the entrance of the tent. Arthur was standing there with two tin cups in his hands, the steam rising up from them gently.

"Mornin'." His lips pulled into a small smile as he stepped forward, offering one of the cups to you. "Figured you might want some coffee."

You nodded silently with a small smile as you took it from his hand. He took a seat across from you in an old wooden chair as he reached down into the breast pocket of the blue button down shirt he was wearing to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He poked one of the hand rolled tobacco cylinders between his lips, swiping a match across the bottom of his boot to light it. You caught yourself sneaking a few peeks at the quiet man as you sipped the hot coffee. The warmth of the tincup on your hands felt comforting on this chilly, spring morning.

You weren't able to get the best look of him lastnight, so seeing him in this early morning light was almost as if you were meeting him all over again. You had to admit that he was a very striking gentleman. He was tall and lean, but he had no shortage of muscles from what you were able to see. He had a fair amount of stubble on his chin, and his hair was almost past his neck. You knew it was wrong to stare, but you couldn't help yourself.

But your admiration for his good looks were cut short once he glanced over to catch you staring at him. You quickly averted your eyes back down your cup of coffee, clearing your throat as you took another quick sip of the hot liquid.

"So, how long have you and your group been here?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"'Bout three weeks, give or take," he said, taking a puff of his cigarette. "Some times we move 'round so much, it can get hard to keep track."

"Travellers, huh?" You asked, jokingly. It wasnt much of a surprise to you what they were doing.

You had travelled with enough outlaws and gunslingers in your time to know what a group of them looked like.

He chuckled, seeming to find amusement in the question. He gave a small shrug, "Yeah, I reckon you could say somethin' like'at."

There was silence for a moment before you finally spoke up again, "how long are y'all sticking around here for?"

"Ehh, probably 'til we get ourselves in trouble," he said honestly. He looked up at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you, as if he could see into your very soul, "How long ya stickin' 'round, miss?"

Your breathe hitched just the slightest when he looked at you, but you were able to shake it off fairly quickly, even if you did stammer on your words just a tad.

"I -I," you trailed off, letting out a breathy chuckle.

You knew you were being silly, and you knew that there really was no need for you to get yourself all flustered, you wouldn't know him long enough to have a reason to. You took a small breath and composed yourself. Arthur waited patiently, seeming to not mind that you were coming off as a right fool, but he probably chalked it up to you being a little nervous after your ordeal lastnight.

"I'll probably be heading out as soon as I get a horse. I figured I'd go out today and see if I can rope me a wild one," you finally finished.

He gave a small nod as he took the last drag off of his cigarette. "Well, I can give you a hand with'at, if ya'd like.  Breakin' horses ain't no easy business."

You smiled warmly at him, "I would like that, Mr. Morgan. Thank you."

~

Later on that morning, you were over by the small makeshift pasture that the camp had to help Arthur get his filly, Athena, saddled up to go. It was a rather quiet morning and you could hear the low humming of voices and talking in the background again as you stood there with Arthur. For what it was worth, this was a rather nice place, and the company you were keeping for the time being wasn't so bad either.

You had already spoken to a few other of the camp members this morning, and most of them were pleasant. Hosea, Lenny, Charles, and Sadie had all introduced themselves when you came out of Arthur's tent. You were even able to get a spare change of clothes from one of the camp women whom said her name was Ms. Grimshaw.

But every place has somehing, or someone, that made everyone miserable and you'd come to find that out way sooner than you had liked.

"Athena, huh?" You hummed at Arthur. "Wouldn't've thought of you as a greek mythology buff, Mr. Morgan."

He scoffed back gruffly as he ran a corse brush over the filly's neck. "No, I reckon most wouldn't. Can't say I'm an expert, but I've done some readin' on them old Gods. Figured a strong horse like this needed a strong name."

"She is a fine animal," you nodded in agreeance, patting the horse on her side.

You weren't much for small talk with most people, but with this man, you genuinely were interested in what he had to say. He didn't didn't seem like the average man who had a whole lot of nothing to talk about. This man was intelligent and kind, which was a rare combination, especially in this neck of the woods.

The conversation was cut short when a long-haired man with a permanent scowl and look that practically screamed he was untrustworthy approached the both you.

"Now Morgan, I know you aren't tryin' to keep our house guest all to yourself," the man taunted.

You could instantly see Arthur's body go tense and stiff when he heard the man's voice sound beside him. His jaw went tight, and you could see the blank stare on his face as you watched his cheeks flair beneath his growing beard as he turned towards the voice.

He gritted down on his teeth with an exaspertlated sigh. "Watchu want, Micah?"

"Oh nothin'," the man held his hands up. His eyes were narrowed and it reminded you of the way a wolf looked when it was stalking it's prey. "I just want to introduce myself to our guest is all."

You looked up at the man with caution as he finally turned to you, holding his hand out for you to take it, and reluctantly, you did. Something seemed very off with this man, and he gave you the goddamn creeps.

"Name's Micah Bell, at your service," he smiled, bowing his head to you, slightly.

"(Y/N)(Y/L/N)." You answered back, forcing yourself to usher as smile through your lips that were pulled tightly into a firm line.

"See, that's how ya communicate, Morgan," Micah gave a smug sounding chuckle.

"There anyhin' in particular you wan't, Micah? 'Less it's orders from Durch, we don't have any business here," Arthur snapped at him. He was clearly pestered by him from the moment he slithered up to the both of you like a rattlesnake.

"Well, fine then," Micah answered. He turned to you, tipping his hat, "lovely to meet you, miss (Y/L/N)."

"Of course," you said, trying to be polite.

Once he walked off and made his way out of sight, Arthur seem to tense up just a little less.

"I take it he's not the camp favorite?" you inquired.

He hummed and nodded. "Sure as shit ain't my favorite. Pigeon-livered sonuvabitch's been ridin' with us for months now. One problem after 'nother. Don't trust him far as I could throw him, which ain't very,"

You shook your head, biting your lip as you tried to hold back the small laugh trying to escape your throat at his comment.

"Find that funny, do ya?" One corner of his lip tugged into half a smirk.

You shook your head, "I do apologize. But I see what you mean, the man seems insufferable."

"He's about as pleasant to be around as a horse with the colic." He shook his head, turning to you, "But enuff'a that. You ready to ride?"

You nodded, "Sure am."

He hopped up onto the filly, holding his hand out for you to take as helped lift you up onto her back with ease.

"Alright, let's go find you a horse," he said, giving Athena a slight tap with his feet, making her move forward.

~

You and Arthur stood on a small cliff that overlooked the plains. It was a beautiful sight with a clear view of the landscape and the towering mountains in the background. Arthur scanned the area with a pair of binoculars, waiting on a herd of horses to make an appearance.

"So, where ya headed next?" Arthur asked, lowering the binoculars.

You sighed, "I'm not really sure. I've usually just take a train and wherever it stops, that's where I am for a while. But, I figured if I get a horse, I'll just make my own way."

"Sounds like you live quite the adventurous life, miss (Y/L/N)," he remarked, cutting his eyes to you.

You rolled your eyes playfully, "Please, just call me (Y/N)."

"A'right then, (Y/N)," he said in that gravelly tone of his.

You'd be a liar if you said that his tone of voice, or, the man himself in general didn't make you weak in the knees, because he surely did.

"Ah, gotcha," he spoke quickly to himself, pulling the binoculars back up to his face. "We've got a heard of four. Hard to to say what the breeds are. Look like Standardbreds to me."

You walked stepped closer to him to take a look in the direction that he pointed out. You hadn't even noticed that you were damn near brushing up again him until he finally lowered the binoculars down for you to take a look. You could feel your face flush red as you took a step back from him, taking the binoculars from his hand. He must have noticed how close you were to him as well when he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Jus' take a look there. See which one you like," he said, pointing towards them.

You brought the binoculars up to your own face to get a better look. "Yeah, I'm willing to bet those are Standardbreds."

You looked over the heard for a moment, and the one that ended up catching your eye the most was a beautiful, solid black stallion.

"That black stallion," you said confidently. "That's the one."

Arthur sighed a tad, "Sure a stallion ain't gonna be too much for ya?"

Your narrowed your eyes at him slightly as you clocked your head to look at him.

He put his hands up in defense, with an impressed smile, "Okay, okay. C'mon, let's go get 'em."

The two of you mounted Arthur's horse once more, and the two of you took off on the trail that led down from the cliff as the horses came closer into view.

"Grab my lasso, will ya!" Arthur called back to you.

"No need," you said, "Ride up along side the black one."

Even with only one side of his face visible, you could tell this cowboy was questioning what the hell you were even talking about right now.

"Whatchu mean, girl?" He asked, sounding half impressed and half concerned.

"Just do it, Arthur," you called back. "Don't worry, I've done this plenty of times."

He shook his head at you and tapped his heels against the filly's sides again, making her speed up from a gallop to a sprint, until you were right on top of the herd. You could hear the neighing and snorts of the wild stallions and fillies as they darted off in the other direction, trying to put as much distance in between you and them as possible, but it didn't take Athena long to catch up to the black stallion that you had your eyes on. As Arthur guided Athena up beside the wild equine, you threw one of your legs up onto the saddle, hanging tightly onto Arthur's vest as you readied yourself to jump onto the spooked horse's back.

"Ya gonna get yourself killed, woman!" Arthur barked as he swung his head back around to you.

You flashed him a determined smile, "We're all gonna die sometime, Mr. Morgan."

You leapt from Athena to the black stallion as it ran parallel to you. You landed on it's back with an audible thud, you quickly tightened your legs around it's abdomen as tangled your fingers tightly into it's mane as you felt the first few shockwaves of it's bucking as it's gallop faltered and it began to slow down, moving more erratically in circles to try to get you off of it's back. The horse reared up, snorting angrily at you, stomping it's feet aggressively on the ground while kicking it's back feet outward. You did your best to hang on as it slung you around like a ragdoll, giving you more than. a few close calls. But you had your grip locked in tight on it and you knew not to let go for any reason.

Arthur's horse galloped in circles around you with his lasso at the ready as he watched in pure shock and amazement at what he was witnessing you do at this moment. He surely hadn't expected anything like this from you. He had never even known many men to be as bold as this this bold. The only other woman he had seen show fearlessness was Mrs. Adler.

"You crazy woman," he breathed. He was saying it more so to himself than he watched you, his lips parted as he watched you in amazement.

After a few more hard bucks and still failing to throw you off, the stallion slowed up his erratic movements to a few odd rears  and kicks here and there as a last ditch effort, until it finally decided to give up all together as it snorted and threw it's head back a few more times. You finally loosened your grip on him enough to fit comfortably atop his back once you felt it was settled down enough. The adrenaline was still coursing through you as you sat there, letting yourself breathe. You gave the stallion a firm pat on the neck.

"Good boy," you praised.

"I think ya might be one'uh the craziest women I've ever met," Arthur's voice broke through the silence.

You were so caught up in what you were doing, you forgotten that he was there watching all of this.

You sighed, guiding the horse over to him, "Perhaps a little."

"So, what'dya do anyway? After last night an' today, I'm guessin' you ain't a church girl," he said bluntly, turning his head curiously at you.

You shook your head, the two of you headed back towards camp at a leisurely pace. "You'd be right about that. I feel like me an' you are probably in the same type of business, Mr. Morgan," you admitted, giving him a knowing glance.

He raised a curious eyebrow, "An' what kind of business might that be?"

"I know a group of gunslingers when I see them. Wouldn't consider myself much of a gunslinger, but you did see me rob a man lastnight," you said, shrugging.

Arthur nodded in agreement. He made no effort to try an deny what you already knew. "Yeah, well, that was deserved on that bastard's part. We do the best we can. We try to live as right as we can. We were all just'a bunch of misfits 'til Dutch found us. We're family more than anythin'."

"He definitely struck me as the leader. How's he likin' that pocketwatch?" you asked Arthur, jokingly.

"Safe to say, I think ya made yourself a friend for life on that'un. Ya know, he was askin' me this mornin' if you're plannin' on stickin' 'round camp," Arthur said, turning his head towards you, waiting for a response.

He said it as if he too wanted to know the answer to that. You couldn't help but smile, surprised by this revelation that Dutch had more or less given you his blessing to stay if you wanted to, and the fact that Arthur himself didn't seem to mind.

"I'd hate to impose on anyone, Arthur."

"Hell, who'd you be imposin' on, darlin?" He retorted.

You could feel yourself go flush again at his words. Hearing him call you darlin' had instantly lit a fire inside of you with an intensity that you weren't even aware that you were capable of experiencing. Your thoughts started to go hazy, and you began to wonder what real harm would come from staying just a little while longer with the group. They all seemed nice enough, except Micah, but you weren't too much worried about him, and you had to admit that Arthur livened up the place, and he definitely sweetened the deal when it came to you sticking around these parts.

You glanced over to Arthur, whose blue eyes met yours at an instant. You could feel the chills running down your spine anytime he looked at you directly like this. He looked as if he had a small smile on his face, like he already knew exactly what your answer to him would be.

You bit your lip absentmindedly as you stared at the handsome cowboy before you. "Maybe I can stay a few more days, if you wouldn't mind having me."

"I wouldn't. It'd be a pleasure, ma'am." He tipped his hat to you as his eyes lingered on yours for a moment more.

Maybe spending some extra time around here wouldn't be so bad after all.

[perfectlymarilynmonroe]

Hi there! I just discovered your blog and I'm in love with it. I'm so sorry for talking about this, but... Marilyn and JFK spend a night together?I know there was no affair, but I wanted to know this. Thank you for showing the world the real Marilyn.

Thank you… and thank you! 

The closest they could have came to is a “one night.” This may have happened at a party held by Bing Crosby in March 1962, but in all honesty I doubt it. I have to preface my bigger answer with this: Marilyn didn’t go around having one night stands (not to say she never had - and not to say that it’s wrong) but it simply wasn’t her way of life. Marilyn wanted romance, she wanted tender, she wanted to be held, she wanted someone to love her. She wanted physical romance, sure, but she wanted an emotional romance as well. Aside from her marriages, when she was in a relationship, or slept with someone, she’d only be with that one person (ie. Hal Schaefer: after her divorce from Joe, she was only with him, not sleeping around with multiple men. Frank Sinatra: in 1961 for maybe a couple of weeks/months but again she was just with him). Again, not to say if she - or anyone - was sleeping with multiple people that it’s wrong. But as I said, it wasn’t Marilyns style to just do it on whim where ever with whomever. 

The JFK allegations annoy me because they’re totally out of character for Marilyn - all of the sudden in 1961/1962 she changed her behaviors? Doubtful. Again, perhaps it was a one time thing, but there is little evidence to support it which makes me go to her prior lifestyle when it came to dating and sex and look at it through that lens. 

I also think some of Marilyn’s colleagues and confidants who’ve come out of the woodwork calming Marilyn and JFK slept together just wanted their “knowledge” or input on the affair. They wanted the glory for themselves. Perhaps I’m wrong, and perhaps they did share a night together, but it isn’t likely in my opinion. Could Marilyn have been drinking/enjoying herself, some flirting from JFK, appreciated it and decided to sleep with him for one night? Sure. But, all of Marilyn’s romances are well documented, so why wouldn’t her “one night stand” or whatever with JFK be documented? They were two of the most famous Americans at the time. Most of JFK’s other mistresses were documented, again, why not Marilyn? 

Marilyn, after her divorce from Arthur, was quoted by friends as feeling kind of free and better than she had been in years. She was enjoying being single, or not married, and looking to start her life back up as she had been struggling during her last few years with Arthur. This was her third divorce, she miscarried three babies, she didn’t have many friends who weren’t colleagues or people she paid, she had parents who either didn’t want to have anything to do with her or where to ill to care for her or be there, and her sister was far away. Personally, I think she was more on the path of trying to figure her life out, get her career to a place where she wanted, find a home that she could make beautiful for herself to permanently live in, and hopefully find a man that accepts her career and her “demons” as she once called them herself, and finally have some children. She wasn’t looking for “hook ups” or “scandals.” 

From my FAQ:

9. Did Marilyn have an affair with John F. Kennedy or Robert Kennedy?

Here is a direct quote from the most factual Marilyn Monroe biographer/researcher, Donald Spoto:

“During the time in which she was planning some home renovations and new Mexican-style furnishings, there was talk in Hollywood of a new man in Marilyn’s life, though no one knew who – and it was just chatter. ‘A passionate love affair’ between Marilyn Monroe and John F. Kennedy has been assumed for so long that it has achieved as solid a place in public awareness as almost any other event in the man’s presidency. But if the phrase ‘love affair’ describes a protracted intimacy sustained by some degree of frequency, then such a connection between these two is impossible to establish with any of the rudimentary tools of historic-critical studies. In the absence of such evidence, no serious biographer can identify Monroe and Kennedy as partners in a love affair. All that can be known for certain is that one four occasions between October 1961 and August 1962, the president and the actress met, and that during one of those meetings they telephoned one of Marilyn’s friends from a bedroom; soon after, Marilyn confided this one sexual encounter to her closest confidants, making clear that it was the extent of their involvement.In October 1961, after a photography session for a magazine story, Marilyn asked Allan Snyder to deliver her to a party at Patricia and Peter Lawford’s Santa Monica beach house. The occasion was a dinner party honoring Pat’s brother, President Kennedy, and among the other guests were several blond movie stars- Kim Novak, Janet Leigh, and Angie Dickinson, for all of whom the president had a keen appreciation. All contrary allegations notwithstanding, this was the first meeting between Marilyn Monroe and John Kennedy; hearsay about any earlier introduction simply cannot be substantiated. Before this, the schedules of Monroe and Kennedy since his January 1961 inauguration reveal wide geographic distances between them. That October night, Marilyn was driven back to her apartment by one of the Lawfords’ staff.The second encounter occurred during February 1962, when Marilyn was again invited to a dinner party for the president, this time at the Manhattan home of Fifi Fell, the wealthy, socialite widow of a famous industrialist. She was escorted from her New York apartment to the Fell residence by Milton Ebbins, who also saw her home.The third meeting occurred on Saturday, March 24, 1962, when both the president and Marilyn were houseguests of Bing Crosby in Palm Springs. On that occasion, she telephoned Ralph Roberts from the bedroom she was sharing with Kennedy. ‘She asked me about the solus muscle,’ according to Ralph, ‘which she knew something about from the Mabel Ellsworth Todd book [The Thinking Body], and she obviously been talking about this with the president, who was known to have all sorts of ailments, muscle and back trouble.’ Ralph clearly recalled not only the origin and detail of Marilyn’s question but also the ease with which Kennedy himself then took the phone and thanked Roberts for his professional advice ‘Later, once the rumor mill was grinding,’ according to Ralph, ‘Marilyn told me that this night in March was the only time of her ‘affair’ with JFK. Of course she was titillated beyond belief, because for a year he had been trying, through Lawford, to have an evening with her. A great many people thought, after that weekend, that there was more to it. But Marilyn gave me the impression that it was not a major event for either of them: it happened once, that weekend, and that was that.’ The fourth and final meeting took place in May 1962, at the legendary birthday gala for Kennedy at Madison Square Garden, an event that included a party afterward at the home of a movie executive Arthur Krim and his wife Mathilde, a scientist later renowned for her great work against AIDS. This May meeting was the briefest of them all, as the president, his brother and his family were mobbed by friends, admirers and the press all evening.”

From The Marilyn Encyclopedia by Adam Victor:

“Marilyn Monroe famously sings “Happy Birthday” to President John F. Kennedy. We know for a fact that Marilyn Monroe and JFK met on four occasions: October 1961: Marilyn and other female stars were invited to Peter Lawford’s beach house to attend a dinner in honor of his brother in law, JFK. Early 1962: A dinner party for the President in NY. March 24th 1962: A gathering at Bing Crosby’s home in Palm Springs. May 19th 1962: JFK’s birthday gala. It was encounter number three, at Bing Crosby’s home, that Marilyn and JFK shared a bedroom and this ‘affair’ most likely happened. Marilyn made a call to Ralph Roberts, her masseur, who later said: “Marilyn told me that this night in March was the only time of her ‘affair’ with JFK. Of course she was titillated beyond belief, because for a year he had been trying, through Lawford, to have an evening with her. A great many people thought, after that weekend, that there was more to it. But Marilyn gave me the impression that it was not a major event for either of them: it happened once, that weekend, and that was that.” Two more of Marilyn’s close friends agree. It is Susan Strasberg’s opinion that, “Not in her worst nightmare would Marilyn have wanted to be with JFK on any permanent basis. It was ok for one night to sleep with a charismatic president - and she loved the secrecy and drama of it. But he certainly wasn’t the kind of man she wanted for life, and she was very clear to us about this.”

Of course, there are some people who are going to believe Marilyn had a wild affair with the Kennedy brothers, and to those people I simply say: you obviously don’t know Marilyn.

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I don’t want people to assume I don’t believe the JFK story because “I don’t want to” or “I’m in denial.” Whatever Marilyn did, or didn’t do, I support because I love her. But, I don’t appreciate her being made to look like trash because of an “affair” or “one night stand” that may or may not have happened.