I should have guessed his name was Mulva

George Castanza has entered my life and won’t go away. I’m not kidding. In case you skipped a blog the other day, Castanza Man entered my life on Saturday night. He’s my x-brother-in-laws best friend. Let me know if you need a diagram. I’ve known of him since high school, but he’s never registered on my radar. Not because I’m better than he is, but because he’s well….he’s just like George Castanza. I think I’ve spent the last 15 years trying to forget him.

Evidently I’ve done a pretty good job. When I saw him on Saturday my mind drew a blank and I had to introduce myself to him. He laughed and explained that we had met probably 20 times over the years. I blinked and look confused, but smiled and went on about watching the show. Turns out the guy is really funny. Well, I should qualify that. I thought the guy was funny because I was on my 3rd beer and pretty much would have laughed my head off at anything by that point. Helen Keller jokes? Hilarious at that point.

Oh and it turned out that we had all these things in common. We both like San Diego and sushi. We both hate homeless people who just threw up on themselves and won’t stop talking to you. Which, for me, boils down to having the same thing in common with at least 5 million people.

Castanza felt differently. Due to my beer luster state, I agreed to grab a bite with him after the show. I’m thinking it’s a family friend kind of thing to do, and this guy is thinking it’s a full-blown date. We sit down and I start analyzing his appearance. I finally left it at frat boy meets balding 35 year old who presumes that he is the shit because he has released a CD.

I had to listen to this man go on and on about all the music we could make together. Literally. Then he delves into the realization that we were meant to be and he has been waiting for the X and I to break up since the beginning of time. Nice to know people were rooting for us, huh? Next up he tells me how I am so much more myself than I use to be with the X. Impressive for someone whose name I didn’t know until 3 hours previously. He then brags about how much he makes, about the 20 year old women he dates, and his “music career”. My slight memory of the music career is that he released a CD, which was horrible, and forced all of his friends to buy one. I think the family has about 20 of them if you want one.

The whole time he is making terrible jokes to the waitress who only wants to serve us food and get out of the whole SXSW cluster fuck that Austin became over the weekend. I’m staring at him in disbelief. I’m wondering if he thinks that his newly purchased vintage shirt really works in Austin and if he should consider hair plugs. I mean he looks like the kind of guy who would get hair plugs anyway, so what would it hurt.

He then orders me another beer, which I reject, and then forced the irritated waitress to bring it for me anyway. The waitress and I roll our eyes at one another and the beer shows up in a flash. I proceed to tell the man that I don’t answer my cell phone and I don’t ever want to hang out with him.

The outcome? He’s called me roughly 10 times a day since Saturday. Including once when he got home after we had dinner together. I have countless messages that sound like a car salesman on my phone. “Hey, there! It’s me. Guess you really don’t answer your phone. I guess I’ll just keep calling until I get you.” And priceless text messages also. Things like, “you’re ass looks good from here”. That’ll win a girl over in heartbeat. Does that mean my ass is so large he can see it across town or is he imagining my ass from where he is? Either possibility mortifies me.

Why do I feel like I’m going to have to call this little man and ask him to stop calling me? Why can’t he take a hint? I think cupid is punishing me again. I hate that little flying baby.**

**Apologies to the Playa MC who loves cupid. I’m sure I’ll change my mind one day.