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, a balanced diet, and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face gets a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do 1,000 now. After I remove the ice pack, I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower, I use a water-activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on my face, and exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb mint facial mask, which I leave on for 10 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 antiaging 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 lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.
