(January 6, 1994—9:00 p.m.) An episode of the sitcom Seinfeld titled “The Stall” aired on NBC's Thursday night, “Must See TV” lineup. Like so many people, it was my favorite show on television at the time, and I was making my sitcom debut on this particular episode. I was portraying Elaine's somewhat-vapid, thrill-seeking boyfriend, Tony, who was armed with a catchphrase symbolic of the 1990s. “Step off!” Was I excited? As I was taught to say at the University of North Carolina, “You're darn tootin', fig newton!”—which I believe means, yes. As far as television “street cred” went in the 90s, there was none better than appearing on Seinfeld. Obviously, there was no social media at the time, so if you wanted to get yourself “out there” and recognized as a comedic actor, this was the transcendent show to do it on.

Somewhere around the 6:41 mark in the program, a new word was introduced into pop culture folklore. Jerry and Elaine were sitting in his car discussing the reason she was dating Tony. Jerry was adamant it was only for his looks, then he uttered the line, “Elaine, he's a male bimbo…he's a mimbo.” The line got a huge laugh and rightfully so, but little did I know, that word spoken on that night would change my life forever.

The following morning, I was leaving a doctor's office in Beverly Hills, where I'd just finished getting a “cast physical” for a new CBS series that I was set to star in with one of my idols, the legendary George C. Scott. I put “cast physical” in quotes because the only thing physical about it was the handshake that doctor I-once-played-a-pimp-on-an-episode-of-Kojak gave me before signing off on my medical well-being. After he filled out all of my paperwork, he felt the need to drop another nugget from his “Tinsel Town” resume, when he dove into some salacious Playboy Mansion–like details about being Bachelor #2 on The Dating Game. I chose that as the perfect time to politely excuse myself. “Have fun with George C., I hear he's a goddamn piece of work,” he said, to which I replied, “And you have fun with the pimping; I hear it ain't easy.” The echoes of him laughing and spewing on about the research he'd done for the role filled the waiting room like a fart in a Prius.

I left the building, and as I approached my car outside the offices I heard someone yell, “Hey mimbo, step off!” I turned to see a middle-aged white guy whose name I would have bet $100 was Khaki McDockers. It wasn't; good thing I didn't bet. He quickly approached me and giddily shrieked, “Oh my God, it is you. The mimbo!” It was at that moment I realized that, thanks to the power of network television and the comedic brilliance of Jerry Seinfeld, the original mimbo was born…me.

Cut to 25 years later, now at the ripe mimbo-fied age of 52, I sit with my iPhone in hand, stressing over which one of two photos would be the more appropriate #TBT post, when I received an email. I wisely chose a baby pic to minimize the troll traffic, then proceeded to check the email. I was happily surprised to see it was from my friend and Instagram bud, Matt Holt, aka senior vice president and executive publisher for Wiley Publishing. This wasn't the typical type of email I'd get from Matt; this one was rather concise and to the point. He'd seen via social media that my third child had just been born and it gave him an idea, so he decided to cast a line. “Have you ever thought about writing a book? Something fun. Something a little more positive than what's out there and a lot more Dan.”

Truthfully, over the years the thought had crossed my mind, but that was about it. However, this made things a bit more real, and given the fact that this was someone I truly respected in the publishing world bringing the idea to me, as opposed to the other way around, I felt I'd be doing myself a disservice if I didn't seriously consider it. After going back and forth for a few weeks about the concept, direction, and all the dynamics that go into this process, I was still on the fence. Matt kept coming back to the idea of “a book about Dan.” I kept thinking, “A book about Dan. What does he mean by that? I am Dan, and quite frankly, even I'm confused by it.” So, I politely said, “We've spoken quite a few times over the years, but have never met face to face. Be perfectly honest with me, because I'm curious. What do you think I'm like as a person?” It was a legitimate question, and I thought his response might help me better understand his vision. He proceeded to tell me that after asking around and speaking with some colleagues, he thought that I would be “a lot like the character I played on that episode of Seinfeld, a fun guy who's fun to be around, someone who likes to hang out and have a good time.” Unfortunately, through all of his compliments, all I heard was, “You're a male bimbo, you're a mimbo.” I wasn't insulted by what he thought I might be like, but I knew I wasn't that character. I knew there was so much more to me than that…or was there?

About a week later, Matt introduced me, via email, to best-selling author, speaker, and positivity guru Jon Gordon. If you haven't read any of his books, do so. You can thank me later. After many unnecessary, kind words, he let Jon know, “If you want to know more about Dan, just Google him.” Which I decided to do. That's right, I Googled myself, just like every narcissistic actor in Hollywood does on a weekly basis. I wanted to see what Jon would find out about who Dan “really is.” In .39 seconds Google proudly displayed that I'm “Tony the mimbo, from Seinfeld,” “Jake's brother on Melrose Place,” “The Whopper Guy,” and apparently “Stefon on SNL mentions Dan Cortese and Twitter goes wild.”

Now, while I am truly proud of all of those moments in my life, they more or less define what I've done, not who I am. But the more I thought about it, I realized that how I perceive myself, how I think others perceive me, and how others actually do perceive me, are more than likely, three entirely separate views. So, after speaking with my family, it was with a rather clear realization that I told my friend Matt, “Yes, I'll write the book.” I came to the conclusion that if I'm not happy with the narrative of my own story, then maybe I should become the narrator.

If I truly want to do this right, then I'm going to need some honest introspection. So I've put together a collection of life experiences, told as how my brain has chosen to recollect them. As life rapidly passes us by, too often we take the tiny pieces, those little moments, and discard them to the side as if they were irrelevant and unnecessary. This book is a chance for me to do something that all of us should do at some point on our journeys—sit down with open, honest eyes and lay out all of the puzzle pieces of our life on the table. Once you've put them back together, does that finished puzzle look like what you thought it would, or does it look entirely different? Just like any of us who have lived a full life, that's what I'm anxious to find out.

This exploration is an attempt for me to figure out who I really am, and in doing so, will hopefully inspire others to take the time to put their puzzle pieces back together as well. Foundation, Fame, and Fatherhood, this is my journey from mimbo to manhood. At least, that's what I'm hoping takes place, because a journey from mimbo to older mimbo would be pretty damn depressing.