Who doesn’t love a mysterious woman—from Helen of Troy to Marlene Dietrich and Amelia Earhart (later years)? But how does one inspire intrigue while also getting a good night’s sleep?
Well, ladies, gather round, because it turns out it is possible to have it all (including eight to ten hours of rest).
Being social is critically important to being liked, and being liked is critically important to being a woman. But being too conspicuous will destroy the most mysterious of auras. Take the advice given to rookie screenwriters, and start in the middle—of the party. Arrive about an hour in, drop one memorable quip, such as, “I put a lot of myself into my seven-layer dip—the last layer is clinical depression.” Then, while the people are still laughing, walk out the door and into your warm, safe bed.
Yoga is a great option, because you’re already starting prone, on a mat. It also helps to rebrand your forty-five-minute midafternoon nap as “transcendental meditation.” Alternatively, telling people that you’re working your way through the Criterion Collection will make you seem deep—no need to volunteer more information, like that you’re “watching” with your eyes closed.
Remember that nine out of ten times people don’t really care about the answer to “How was your weekend?” So, simply respond with a Delphic “Intriguing. . . .” This cuts down on time spent in draining conversation, preserving energy for getting home quickly.
Everyone loves to talk about themselves. Pay close attention while the host rambles on about remodelling the guest room and her new Tempur-Pedic mattress. After cocktails, slip into said room and rest your weary head on your secret purse pillow.
There are a million reasons you can use to get out of attending a party, none of which will tarnish your social reputation. For example, just cryptically mutter, “The 6 train.” You needn’t live anywhere near the 6 train’s route or even remotely close to New York City. This excuse works as far as Binghamton, and in some parts of Canada.
Take a cue from the ultimate enigmatic icon, Uma Thurman’s character in “Pulp Fiction,” and disappear into the bathroom for a really long time. Only, instead of overdosing on white powder, go home and overdose on your white-noise machine and get high on your high-thread-count Egyptian-cotton sheets.
By which we mean your mom—you both want to be in bed before 9:30 p.m., so it works out perfectly. ♦
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