All posts by Tracey Stone

Tracey Stone is a writer living in NYC. Her blog Not Quite A Cougar chronicles the adventures of a never married 40-something as she navigates the Big Apple in search of love, success and the perfect champagne brunch spot. Tracey is originally from California where she graduated from UCLA with a BA in theater. After many years of success as a commercial actress she hung up the drama, started writing and moved to Manhattan.

Speed Dating. Part One.

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“So you see, it will look like a sphere, just a plain sphere, and then you press a button and POP! Out comes a Bath Pouf Sponge. Or you’ll have a cube, and you’ll think it’s just a cube and then POP! Out comes a Bath Pouf Sponge!”

“Wow,” I said and blinked rapidly. “That is…that’s really innovative.”

“I know,” he said and leaned back in his chair. “We’re currently building our inventory. This thing is going to be huge.” He took a sip of his scotch. “So what industry are you in?” Continue reading Speed Dating. Part One. →

I Feel the Need…

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“This was a bad idea,” I said to Thalia as our cab rushed downtown. Well, ‘rushed’ maybe is an overstatement. It was Saturday night in Manhattan, so ‘steadily crawled’ might be a more accurate description.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, as she pulled out her lip-gloss to reapply.

“It just was, ” I said and slumped back in my seat.

Tara, our former Summer intern from NYU, who was now a full-time employee at our company, had been sitting on the exercise ball at my desk, when I’d started looking into Speed Dating events. Speed Dating had been the winner of the Reader Poll a few days prior, so I knew I had to get on scheduling it before too much time passed. Otherwise when I wrote about it, people would be like, “Poll?? What poll? What in the Horatio is she talking about??”

Continue reading I Feel the Need… →

I’m Doing it Again.

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Remember how I said in Breaking the Fourth Wall how I hate it when bloggers devote an entire post to speak directly to their audience? Usually because they’re selling something or asking for people to share/repost their site or requesting other annoying things? And how I’d roll my eyes and click out immediately?

I still feel that way.

But I’m still going to do this today. Continue reading I’m Doing it Again. →

90 Days. Part Three.

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I’d always had a vision of how it would play out when I’d meet him face to face. I’d be looking fabulous, perhaps in a pair of tiny black leather shorts, a fitted top that showed a hint of cleavage, yet was still classy, and to-die-for overpriced heels. My legs would be firm, tan and stubble-free. My hair would be long and blowing around me like a Clairol commercial. My makeup would accentuate my features to the most alluring degree but not be overbearing or garish. My nails would do Lux proud. I’d strut over to him to the tune of Christina Aguilera’s ‘Fighter’ and I would get in his face and say everything I’d ever wanted to say.

I’d make him admit the truth. Finally.

As Christina sang out, “Thought I would forget, but I remember. Yes, I remember, I’ll remember!” I’d turn on my stiletto heel and leave him in a puddling mess of his own tears.

As it turns out, it didn’t go as planned.

Continue reading 90 Days. Part Three. →

90 Days. Part Two.

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The Team had decided I needed to start engaging more on Social Media. Specifically, on Instagram and Twitter.

“Just post a lot and and hashtag the crap out of everything,” Lux counseled. “This will cause you to come up more often in searches and drive people to the blog. Hashtag it all!”  Her voice was rising with enthusiasm. “Become a hashtag whore!!!”

“Hashtag whore? What? Did you make that up?”

“No,” she said and tossed back her ponytail. “But I could have.”

“Throwback Thursdays,” Floyd instructed, as he showed me examples on his phone. Although technically not a member of The Team, I still took his opinions to heart as he was young and socially knowledgeable. “You need to get on that. It’s totally searchable.”

“I don’t have time on Thursdays to do that,” I said with a whine. “That’s when I put up the blog, so I’m busy promoting it and I’m usually tired from editing the night before. Why can’t I just do Flashback Fridays instead?”

“Because Flashback Fridays is for old people,” he replied.

Oh. Continue reading 90 Days. Part Two. →

90 Days. Part One.

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I was running late for work. Normally, I don’t worry too much about this because:  1) I always seem to arrive before my bosses, and:  2) I’m not entirely sure my bosses actually know what my hours are.

But as I left my apartment that morning, I got a little worried. Continue reading 90 Days. Part One. →

The Results Are In.

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Drum-roll please… Continue reading The Results Are In. →

Requesting Back-Up.

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I think we can all agree that if we learned anything in the 90’s by reading ‘The Rules,’ it’s that, besides to wear lipstick to the gym, when you have a setback in your Dating Life, that’s the time to get busy. Not lay around eating cookies (their words) or lay around drinking Bud Light (my words). No!! It’s time to wipe away that tear, put on a swipe of mascara (their words) and get a manicure (Lux’s words).

So it was with this exuberant thought that I arrived home from work one night and opened the Dating Excel Sheet that Anna had created for me a few months ago. This was a compilation of all the activities the Fun Committee had come up for me to jumpstart my Dating Life.

I settled in with a healthy Sleepytime tea and looked over the spreadsheet. Soon my eyes glazed over.

It was overwhelming. Continue reading Requesting Back-Up. →

The Final Loop.

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Thalia is not a big drinker, so when I hang out with her, I’m not either. But this night was an exception. We’d met at our friend’s restaurant for happy hour and our friend had us do some tastings of drinks she was considering putting on the menu. We’d had a few Sauvignon Blancs, a few Proseccos and one Coconut Froth concoction in a cute little green glass.

Continue reading The Final Loop. →