At the end of Lukas Gage’s new memoir, I Wrote This for Attention, the TV star’s comatose grandmother’s third husband asks his emotionally detached doctor dad if anyone is going to want the Ensure in the fridge after Nana dies. Meanwhile, Gage’s feed was filling with ruder questions as news broke about his break-up, posts like: “Why does anyone care about a random whore z-list actor?”

Known for roles on The White Lotus, Euphoria and You, Gage, 30, has dealt with a unique set of stressful situations—sometimes while being called a “desperate bitcyh” [sic] on X. “I’ve even been a divorcée with IBS,” he writes in his book.

Other chapters describe: a fridge full of strawberry SlimFasts, taking ecstasy in gym class, dark moments spent doing hundreds of push-ups, and dating “himbos”—including one “who often had blueberries and protein powder stuck in his teeth” and gave Gage gonorrhea and chlamydia then gaslit him into believing his penis was probably just irritated by the ocean. (“All day, I went down a Reddit rabbit hole: Anyone experiencing a penis bacterial infection from swimming in the Malibu beaches today? This week? Ever?”)

When we connected, Lukas was Ubering from the Upper East Side to a fitting in Lower Manhattan before flying back to Los Angeles. Despite having opened his mesmeric ocean eyes only minutes prior, the actor-author answered all our questions about his muscular arms, supplement stack, psychiatric interventions, and what to do if you have cystic acne but you’re in Spain filming an indie movie with Pamela Anderson (Rosebush Pruning, which Lukas tells us is coming soon).

GQ: Good morning! How’s it going?

Lukas Gage: I can’t lie. Last night, my friend Laufey performed at Madison Square Garden. So I went out, had such a good time, and just flew out of bed a few minutes before this meeting. 9:12 was my alarm.

[It’s 9:15 a.m.]

I think it’s healthy in a weird messed up way, or maybe it’s not messed up. Part of taking care of myself is having fun. If I’m not celebrating, what’s the point? I just got up and jumped in the car. Or, first, I brushed my teeth.

What are you going to have for breakfast?

I’m into ThisBowl right now. So I’ll probably get The O.G. Bowl with salmon sashimi. Then coffee, then vitamins.

Ooh what vitamins? And that might segue nicely to your recent spokesmanship for Healthysexuals.com.

Exactly. PrEP [pre-exposure prophylaxis, a medication that prevents HIV] is part of my little healthy handful. First, I do omega fatty acids from DMK. They’re good for skin problems—I get rosacea and dermatitis—so I take, like, three. Then a triple magnesium complex and a little turmeric-ginger-oregano oil shot, oh, and apple cider vinegar—which I think, technically, you’re not supposed to do because it makes you digest quicker. It’s okay. Nothing bad has happened. The vitamins hit me faster, I guess. Then, I take PrEP, which is so easy. You just take a pill and don’t have to live in fear. PrEP is honestly like an anti-anxiety medication. And then I take other medications for my mental health.

I’ve found it can take forever to find the right psychiatric drugs. Do you feel like you’ve found “yours”?

It’s funny. I have a chapter in my book about when I was given the wrong cocktail. They just gave me everything under the sun and it made me totally worse. Now, I’m on a micro-dose of medications that just keeps my symptoms from not being so activated, but still, I feel like a person that’s alive.

There’s another part in your book where you’re at your therapist’s office and—actually, maybe I can read just the first few lines.

Please.

From Chapter 17, “Big-Penis Disorder”:

My therapist’s office was too quiet, too beige, too calm. It had that stagnant quality that made my skin itch. I needed something to do with my hands…“Do you mind if I hit my vape?” I asked, already bringing it to my mouth.

I thought we could double-click on a few things here: skin being itchy, therapy, and, like, coping mechanisms.

Therapy is like dating. I—and I don’t know if this is the best thing ever—but I like to change therapists. I go for, like, six months, and see what I learn from them. It stops me from trying to become whatever version I think they want me to be. When I get too close, it turns into me wanting to be their friend and wanting them to like me.

Wow.

It’s therapy roulette. I learn things from each doctor. There’s a certain kind of therapy I like that mixes DBT [Dialectical Behavioral Therapy] with CBT [Cognitive Behavioral Therapy]. And I dabble with another kind, where you relive trauma and work through it to train your body to not get activated when certain scenarios come up.

Do you do therapy stuff to yourself? I know, with CBT, it’s a lot of, like, you’re supposed to keep “thought records,” like, stop and be like, “Wait, what’s an alternative interpretation for this distressing idea I’m thinking?”

I used to dread doing DBT “skills,” which are tactile things, like: touch ice, or play a song with the opposite emotion to your current emotion—little activities to regulate your emotions. I hated it at first but those are the things I do the most when I’m in the middle of, like, a situation.

What’s an example of an “opposite emotion song” you might play?

Say I’m going through a breakup and it’s heavy and dark—I’m not going to listen to Radiohead at that moment. Instead, I’ll try Selena Gomez.

But there’s something cinematic and romantic about matching your emotion to a song…

We can get addicted to self-loathing and be masochistic about our emotions. Having things resonate is affirming but it can also keep you stuck.

On the topic of listening to stuff—yesterday, on Ride, the podcast, Mary Beth Barone was saying no one says “You’re hot” anymore. Then she said, “You know who does? Lukas Gage.”

Oh my god. Yes.

Everyone agreed you’re really good at saying, “You’re hot” to people—which feels relevant to the title of your new book, I Wrote This For Attention—being about public perception and seeking affirmation, et cetera.

I do say “you’re hot.” It’s a greeting to me. Mostly I mean it but sometimes I say it if I feel like someone needs to hear it. I guess there’s a way to say it that can be inappropriate but I think, generally, we should bring “you’re hot” back.

Another Ride thing: they’ve been talking about “the arm ridge” [a groove in some muscular men’s forearms]. I’ve noticed you have one.

Hell yeah.

How did you get yours? What’s your workout routine?

First of all, thank you so much for saying I have an arm ridge. I’m working on getting the arm vein that Mary Beth is into.

What is that?

The arm vein is when you have that one single vein on your bicep that kind of goes down.

Is that not from being dehydrated?

It’s from being dehydrated. But also, I think, cardiovascular training.

Arm-wise and otherwise what’s your training regimen?

I go to Dogpound and Alo. I know, very L.A. I train two times a week there then Solidcore Pilates twice a week. Those are my go-tos. I don’t go heavy, though, mostly body weight stuff: pull ups, sit ups, push ups. Also, sledding, which is where you push heavy objects. I went through a Barry’s phase but I’m a bad runner so Barry’s hurt my knees. I’ve also definitely had phases where I don’t work out for, like, a year, and just walk. I still walk everyday for at least 20 minutes but that’s more for mental health than physical.

What about skincare routine?

I’m a crazy person, so this is insane, but: Celluma Pro LED Light Therapy Mask—I fall asleep in it. It’s incredible. It has blue light, red light—all this bacteria-fighting light. That’s my shit. Then I have a couple of products I live by. One’s called SIV [SIV Biome Balancing Serum], which is for perioral dermatitis and helps the skin barrier. Another is Plated—it has exosomes and peptides. Their eye serum is the best of my life. I travel with Cryo-Sticks from Biologique Recherche—metal spoons you keep in the freezer and rub your face with. If I don’t have those, I’ll put my face in an ice bucket.

Do you find food affects your skin?

I do. I cut out dairy. I had a bad, bad skin year last year with folliculitis and cystic acne.

What do you do if you’re breaking out but have to film something?

I have two movies coming out where I’m covered in acne. There’s only so much you can do with, like, big pustules. I was freaking out. I mean, it was really the worst skin I’ve ever had. I was sobbing, on antibiotics, on Accutane. One of the projects, I was playing Pam Anderson’s son in this movie we did in Spain last year, and I remember, one day, the director, Karim Aïnouz, saw me upset in makeup—I was so self-conscious—he did the nicest thing he could have ever done, he was like: “I love acne. Please, like, I love acne, I love imperfections. I don’t like when people look too pretty. In fact, if you’re comfortable with it, can we just let this character have acne?” It was such a relief to not feel like I had to hide my pimples. I remember I would come to work before hair and makeup and try to cover them up myself because I was so embarrassed.

That is groundbreaking. It’s so true. Nothing is actually “cringe.” Literally, “cringing” is the act of recoiling—the awkwardness comes from rejecting reality. So, yeah, I guess they couldn’t just, like, get rid of the acne in “post”—could they?

For a superhero movie, they would fully be like, “Let’s just clean it in post.” But indie productions don’t have the budget. Ultimately, I saw it and I was like…I like it, I like the acne. It’s kind of cute in a weird way!

Totally. Has that perspective shift affected other stuff you tend to self-criticize?

Yeah. I have dermatitis flares and it’s annoying but ultimately I’m not obsessing, being like, “Oh god, everyone’s going to be like—” I just kind of surrender to it. Stressing makes it worse. And, like I said, it can be cute. Sometimes rosacea is just boyfriend-blush.