Ever met someone who was so intrinsically cool you just KNEW you had to find a way to be around them?  I mean, besides me?  Well, meet Cristobal Cortes.  (Yes, sounds like Crystal Ball.)

Cris and I met about six months ago.  He chatted me up one night at a bar.  That part isn’t surprising.  He chats everyone up.  Deaf people.  Drunk people.  Dead people. Hell, I actually saw him talking to a potted fern once … but only because he wasn’t wearing his contacts.

Cris is the life of any party.  There doesn’t even need to be a party, come to think of it.  If Cris walks in to a room, it becomes a celebration.  He is the Tasmanian Devil of friendliness and hospitality.  I think that’s why we get along so well.  But when I’m around him, I have to check my ego at the door.  I rarely play second banana to anyone.  But for Cris, I’ll bow down to his amazing social skills.

I had the privilege (and I rarely use that term) of hanging out with him over the weekend in pre-Xmas revelry.  He comes from a large Puerto Rican family and I’ll guarantee he probably did not have to fight to get noticed.  He swears he used to be a shy bookworm.  I swear he was probably the host of several televised game shows by the time he was nine.

Cris’ phone holds 5,000 contacts.  It’s full.  He’s THAT popular.  He may not know everyone’s last names, but he knows everything else about them.  That’s why they all have names like Anita Florist or Julio Spiderman.  He spends the latter part of every day returning text messages.  He gets more messages, texts, IM’s and calls than Mariah Carey did the day before her nervous breakdown.   All in a day’s work, I guess.

Speaking of, bet your wondering what Cristobal does for a living?  International man of mystery?  Astronaut?  Professional bull rider?  No, Cris works in a national call center.  He puts out fires and talks on the phone all day.   HE TALKS.   ON THE PHONE.  ALL DAY.  It is the perfect job for such a gregarious Chatty Cathy.  Not only is he good at it (big surprise, NOT!), but me thinks he kinda enjoys it.

I’ve already decided that when I grow up, I want to be as cool as Cris.  I want to have “JNGLE BOY” on my license plate.  I want to have a social calendar that’s fuller than PDiddy’s.  I want to have a chest you could land planes on.  (Seriously, you could serve beers off his pecs.)  I want to have his charm, charisma and multi-lingual capabilities.  I want the world to have a collective crush on me.

I’m beyond jealous of Cris.  I doubt he knows it though … unless he can read minds.  Crap.  He probably has that superpower too.