One of the sweeter developments of 2025 so far has been our commitment to watch all of Seinfeld. Expecting the dull inner laugh unnoticeable to any bystander that I produce under Friends, I’m struck by its brilliant writing, hilarious approach to nihilism, and the string of supporting characters who went on to become stars.

Seinfeld, however, wouldn’t be where it is today in our home (halfway through season five) if we hadn’t first watched Curb Your Enthusiasm, the mockumentary about Seinfeld creator Larry David.

Upon viewing those first few Curb episodes, my gut instinct was to complain about how unrealistic Larry David is. Here is a man with a complete lack of decorum, an annoyingly pedantic approach to society’s unwritten rules, an inexplicable penchant for arguments, and a perplexing ability to successfully lay on the charm when the time is right, with women well above his pay grade, no less. Nobody is like that, I kept screaming at the wall on which we project our streaming.

After a while of me getting used to his shenanigans, though, Larry David really began to grow on me. I love Larry David. He should’ve been the author of that book on how not giving a fuck is a subtle art, albeit not so subtle when he does it. I began to understand I had known Larry David all along. My father-in-law is Larry David. And I think that one coworker is headed there, too.

Now I miss the show if I don’t see it for a week.

If there ever were an objectively correct order in which to watch two television series, it’s “first Curb Your Enthusiasm, then Seinfeld.” I can’t imagine laughing out loud as much as I do watching them had I seen them any other way.

Remember that unsatisfying horror movie Identity? A whodunit of serial killing against the backdrop of a Psycho decor that turns out to be the inner world of a psychopath with multiple identity disorder? Well into my fifth season of Seinfeld, I’ve become a firm believer in that Jerry, Elaine, George, and Kramer are fragments of Larry David. Mostly George, but all of them.

I know I’m not doing Jerry Seinfeld himself any justice, but I don’t care. I also know I’m ignoring four years of what comparative literary studies taught me about the difference between the author and their character. I see Larry David’s character in Curb Your Enthusiasm everywhere I look. I simply can’t see anything else. I try, but I fail.

Every episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm introduces some variant on Chekhov’s gun, and as a viewer I spend the rest of the 25 minutes debating Anja on how it will end up making Larry David look like an asshole. It’s really not much different with Seinfeld, except the question is “how will Elaine break up with the guy?”, “how will George find a way to ruin that good thing that just happened despite the horror show of a man he is?”

Watching Seinfeld has become like hanging around at your aunt’s place after Christmas dinner, huddled around the warm light of the television showing 1955’s Sissi on mute, exchanging looks of understanding with your cousin as you listen to the crazy stories your uncle won’t stop telling. “Ah, uncle Larry David”, we mumble to each other, a faint smile on our face before we spit out our drink laughing.