eryc perez de tagle

Him: I’ve been following your blog for awhile now, not only because I enjoy reading it, but because I think I’ve projected a fantasy onto you and admire you for everything I am not – handsome, talented, comfortable with their own body, freely pursuing their passion. I admire someone who is not afraid to put themselves out there – mentally and physically (in your case, literally, via photos). Do you have any advice for someone that has pretty low self esteem on how to get a shred of that? Also, any workout tips would be appreciated.

– clue do

Me: Hey Clue.

I need you to listen to me for a second, okay? Are you listening?

You’re beautiful.

I know you are. I’ve never seen you or met you but I know you’re beautiful. You might not be everyone’s type, but trust me- there are people in your life who already stand in awe of you.  I know that. You’re unique and perfect and beautiful.

And I know how you can become more beautiful:

Identify your passion, and pursue it.

Stop listening to the reasons why you can’t succeed. That critical inner voice that says you can’t do it? That voice is the devil. It’s the closest thing to pure evil on this planet.

Don’t compare yourself to other people.

Most people who feel inadequate have a little mental list of people who have done more, achieved more, are better looking, more talented, or deserve more than they do. Keep things in perspective. Even huge movie stars have a list of artists they think they’ll never measure up to.

(In Anna Paquin’s case, that list must be very, very long.)

(we can still see your vagina, anna)

Realize that everyone’s just faking it.

All these photos you see of me running around my kitchen with cute boys in the gorgeous late afternoon light? Carefully staged. I’m a guy who constantly doubts himself, too. I’m faking it as much as Meryl Streep, Barack Obama, or your mailman. We’re all faking it. But if you start behaving like someone who believes in themselves, eventually you trick yourself into having moments where you actually do believe in yourself. Then after a few years, you forget why you were terrible in the first place.


There’s not much we can do to alter our circumstances, besides working. Some people were born rich, good looking, unnaturally talented. Good for them. The rest of us have to work at it. Identify the thing you love, or are passionate about, and go for it. Don’t expect to master it overnight. Just take the slow steps you need to take for your passion to flower. Work toward goals. Set attainable ones. When you attain them, set loftier ones.

You might not wind up getting what you want, but I guarantee – the very act of pursuing a goal will take you places that astound you. You’ll never believe how much good fortune you have if you work every day toward a simple goal.

I never met anyone who was ‘lucky’ that didn’t work their ass off.

Oh, also – if you want to be more ‘cut’ then lift weights. Free weights. Not machines. Aim for five days a week, and be happy when you go four days. Get mad if you’re only doing three. If you want to slim down, then do cardio. Run outside, or swim. Again, try five days a week.

Aw. Clue. You’re adorable. I want to find a way to end this post where I call you a Jerk, but I just like you too much to do that.


See? I did it anyway. Sorry.


Him:  His face looks a little Aids Walk.

Me: Maybe, but if he’s in his early forties it’s quite possible that he’s just been binge drinking for 20 years.  It might not be Aids Walk at all.

Him:  Then again, it might. 

Me:  Yes.  Well the only way to know is to ask.

Him:  My butthole is both the fountain of youth and the BQE.

Me:  Frequently renewing, and refreshing.  Sometimes clogged.  Always a good way to get where you’re going.

Him:  OMG is that Sean Hayes?

Me:  No, that’s a drag queen.

Him:  I know, but is it Sean Hayes?


Me:  Looks like it.

Me:  What are the three things gays enjoy most on a Sunday afternoon?

Him: Meryl Streep, Sauvignon Blanc, and Poppers Florentine.

Me:  True…  Meryl will take any movie it seems…

Him:  And YOU’LL watch it, like a good homo.

Me:  Also true!

Him:  Ever since I started sleeping with other people of color I have to worry less about hiding my valuables in my oven when I get lucky.

Me:  You hide your valuables in your oven?

Him:  Just my passport and my wallet.  White people are kleptomaniacs.

Me:  We are?

Him:  Yes.  There’s a Winona Ryder inside all of you.

Me:  I thought it was a bossy Jewish man inside of me.

Him:  That was yesterday.

Me:  If only.

Him:  Whoops.  You just farted.

Me:  Yes.  I’m rotten inside.

Him:  That’s more than rotten.  What happened to you?

Me: I don’t know.  Something crawled inside me and died?

Him:  Ugh.  It’s TERRIBLE.  You should check your underwear.

Me:  I’m pretty sure I didn’t shit my pants, but it does feel like maybe there’s some parts of shredded pancreas or kidney I might have lost.

Him:  Rough.

Me:  I’m pretty sure I have two pancreases right?  It’ll be fine.

Him:  Light a match.

Him:  You look nice tonight.

Me:  Thanks!  I showered and prepped myself.  I might try to get lucky tonight.

Him:  What’s ‘prep’ yourself mean?

Me:  Oh, you know, shave, pluck the uni-brow, enema, cute outfit.

Him:  Planning on bottoming?

Me:  Not necessarily.  But who knows who I’ll meet?

Him:  You smell good.

Me:  I just wiped vanilla extract all over my junk.


Me:  It’s a phase.  I have to keep pushing myself to change and grow, and vanilla extract on my satchel is part of the process.

Him:  Really?

Me:  No.  I’m just weird.

Me: Hey, you look really good.

Him:  Hey, wow.  I can’t go to Williamsburg without running into you.

Me:  I like running into you.  I miss you.

Him:  I know.  I miss you too.


Him:  (clears throat) So, there’s free BBQ if you buy a drink.

Me: I know.  It’s just about the best thing in the world, right?


Me:  You look pretty.  Oh my God, look at you smile.  Look at that smile!

Him:  Stop.  We don’t talk like that anymore.

Me:  We can if we want to.

Him:  I don’t want you to.

Me:  Okay.

Him:  I think we’re going to go do Karaoke in K Town.

Me:  Sounds fun.

Him:  It’s extremely Asian.

Me:  Just like me.  I’m extremely Asian.  Just kidding.  I’m white.

Him:  What does that mean? 

Me: Apparently it means that I’m a klepto.  Can I have a hug, before you leave?

(long pause)

Him:  Okay.  But then I gotta go.

(long pause)