The first role as "Fashion Show Guy" should not be on my IMDb anymore. That's the sort of thing you put on your IMDb when you have no credits and you really just want to have a line on your résumé. I had just gotten to New York and there was a massive open call for extras for Sex and the City. One of my college roommates' buddies - there was some connection - she worked in the office and saw my name in the massive stack of randoms just trying to be on the show, which was a big hit. She's like, "I know this dude. Let's throw him in there."

I love improving, I love being creative and I love being my own boss.

For the most part, I don't have a Facebook page; I don't Twitter.

I prize being just a normal dude that wakes up, goes to work, comes home to his wife - like, quite boring.

I came out to Los Angeles for a couple of meetings in the summer of 2005, and I ended up getting a movie called Firehouse Dog for Fox. And I thought, "Oh, man. I'm doing a movie. Maybe I'll work a lot more now. I'm an actor now." Then, for eight, nine months I didn't work after that. After that movie, I began to get some guest star roles, fairly consistently, but because I had been so presumptuous before in thinking that the other jobs would lead to something, I realized: "Just get up. Go to work. Go home. This is your job just like everyone else's job."

I wish it had been something as sexy as the old Joey Tribbiani, falling-down-an-elevator shaft. But no. It just faded out. I wasn't related to anybody or anybody's lost, amnesiac lovechild in One Life to Live. They just didn't have room for me, so it was a slow fade. I remember feeling the writing on the wall: "This is not going to end well for me."

I'm a really big surfer, and I have also been playing a ton of volleyball on the beach on the weekends.