Learning To Love You More




Assignment #52
Write the phone call you wish you could have.

Steve Porter
San Francisco, California USA



Me: Hello?
Patrick Bateman: Hello? Steve Porter?
Me: This is he.
Patrick Bateman: Hi. This is Patrick Bateman. I've been trying to get in touch with you for some time.
Me: And why is that?
Patrick Bateman: I know that you think about me.
Me: Dude, I think about what you DID more than who you are. I saw your creator, Bret Easton Ellis, speak just the other day. You know he seemed quite different from a pathological yuppie.
Patrick Bateman: He reminds me of the my brother.
Me: Who? Sean. No. Not at all. You know Sean isn't a babe in the woods himself. But in any case, what can I do for you?
Patrick Bateman: I'm in San Francisco on business, thought I'd slip in a little pleasure while I was at it. We should hang out. I've got an eight ball and I could find us some intersting companionship later in the evening.
Me: I don't know. I might have to pass. Your evenings tend to take some turns that I might not have the stomach for.
Patrick Bateman: These chicks are hot, man. And they'll let you do anything. And I mean anything, Steve. Nothing like those finicky yuppie girls you've known in the past. You know you shouldn't think of the dating world as so warlike. You should approach it joyfully, even gleefully. The world is your oyster. Beautiful women. A variety of weapons and household appliances to throw into whatever festivities you may dream up. None of this grasping around for mutual understanding. I got over that when I was about fifteen. Steve, you need an evening out with me.
Me: No. Patrick. I don't, as a matter of fact...
Patrick Bateman: Steve, I want you to stop hanging out by yourself all the time. Seriously. Drugs, food, liquor, women, I've got it all covered. I know you're broke as usual.
Me: I'm not sure that orgies that end in death for some of the participants is really the answer to isolation.
Patrick: Just say know, Steve. Just say know.