I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st Street, on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I’m 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, in a balanced diet, in a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I’ll put on an icepack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now.After I remove the icepack, I use a deep-pore cleanser lotion.In the shower, I use a water-activated gel cleanser.Then a honey-almond bodyscrub.And on the face, an exfoliating gel-scrub.Then I apply an herb mint facial masque,which I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine.I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol,because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older.Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm, followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman.Some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me.Only an entity– something illusory.And though I can hide my cold gaze…and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours…and maybe you can even sense our life styles are probably comparable,
I simply am not there.