#33 PATRICK BATEMAN, THE FSU FILM STUDENT: HOW IT ENDED, PART TWO
#33 PATRICK BATEMAN, THE FSU FILM STUDENT: HOW IT ENDED, PART TWO
And now the version of events I told Brittany about my time with PB
For context, you’ll want to read the previous post here on the version of events I told my guy best friend, Chester, and if you want to see this story from the beginning check out these chapters: why I was into PB (he fit my checklist), our first date (not great), waiting in a vegan cafe, and my pathetic attempts at getting his attention here.
Here’s the end of the Patrick Bateman saga, which many of you may well be thankful for! I had so much (too much?) material to cover since I’d apparently written this all to myself back in 2011, saving various bits of thoughts and reflections and text exchanges (which I’d have had to type out painstakingly back then). Where I found the time I’ll never know. I suppose this was what I was doing when I spent all those hours procrastinating on doing what I was actually supposed to do. Plus, I had a million friends (hyperbolic, of course), went to dozens of parties, maintained my 4.0 grad school GPA (not so humble brag?), and read books.
You can read even more (gasp!) material that I didn’t include in these six (another gasp!) posts about PB here.
Right before he came to visit me…
Saturday, 6 August 2011
11.46 pm: Elaine: Just wondering what time you plan on being here. Call before you set off, please. Look forward to seeing you.
Sunday, 7 August 2011
4.00 am: Patrick: Because I plan to go straight from your place to my parents’ house, where I’ll be staying for 3 weeks, it’ll take me a little while to get ready. Realistically, I’ll probably be leaving here around 5 or 6. I’ll call.
Past me noted, “Okay, so I liked the fact that he used “parents’” in a text. He could use apostrophes correctly. Yay!”
6.44 am: Elaine: 5 to 6 at night? So you’ll get here around 8?
Damn. So, it was 6.44 am and I still hadn’t gone to bed at this point because I’d been obsessively cleaning my place with the occasional help (big help) from Chester (as I wrote in the previous post). I didn’t go out on Friday or Saturday night to party. I saw The Change Up on Friday night and went home to do more cleaning. I decompressed with a shower and texted him when I got out.
7.30 am: Elaine: That’ll work. I’ll have plenty of time for errands. I’ll plan on seeing you around 7? Safe journey. :)
Commentary I added to myself back then: I use too many damn smiley faces. It’s supposed to mean “well wishes” and “happiness” and “I’m not all that upset that I had more time to clean but didn’t know it and my body is mostly exhausted.”
5.46 pm: Patrick: Little behind. I should be leaving by 6:30, though.
5.46 pm: Elaine: No worries.
Okay, so I probably didn’t have time for my manicure, but oh well.
6.26 pm: Elaine: About to hop in shower.
6.30 pm: Patrick: Just hopped in car.
By 9 August, he was long gone.
What I wrote to Brittany
And now what I recounted with Brittany when I emailed her on 9 August 2011.
So, he left. Early. He said he wasn't feeling it, but being rather perceptive, I could tell. He said that it didn't seem like the news came as a shock to me, etc. I'm not terribly upset. Our conversation didn't flow very naturally and he didn't seem all that interested in anything I said, which was really disconcerting to me. I've never really had anyone act like I was completely boring. Plus, he spent a lot of time playing flash games on the internet. And, eventually, he became less and less affectionate, etc.
Don't worry. Just because one guy doesn't like me doesn't mean I think lesser of myself. There's someone else out there.
Um, it absolutely did mean I thought lesser of myself.
Oh, and, his first night here, he was taking pills and he said something like this is the medicine he takes everyday and I was like "If you don't mind my asking what's it for?" And he said bipolar disorder. I think I dodged a bullet.
I’ve since known lovely people with bipolar disorder but 2011 wasn’t as lovely a world (in some ways) as it is now in that now we are all kinds of more open about mental health issues, which is great. We are also way better about so many other things like acceptance of differences and genders and body positivity and I think my dating disasters are very much “of that time.” Young people now wouldn’t be as naive and stupid as I was.
I think the problem was I couldn't really be myself. He made me feel a bit boring. I couldn't relax and be fun. I tried, but he didn't find me funny or charming or anything. I think he was too self-absorbed. It stings a little, but I'm okay. It's not like I spent loads and loads of time with him anyway.
The more I think it over the more big, bright, red, waving flags there were.
I did even think to myself after the first time, "Do I like him as a person or do I like him because he's attractive and seems like a nice idea?"
On paper, he seems okay, in writing he seems like he might be interesting, but I think that's it – there's no thirst for life, even in his filmmaking. There seems to be something lacking even in his thirst for art. He couldn't banter about his writing process even though he writes and directs.
It seems even though he was a narcissist, he had no idea how he made people feel or how he came across to other people. I'm perceptive and analytical. And I'm not sure he is those things.
Oh past, Elaine, you weren’t perceptive or analytical. You were an obsessive, naive overthinker. Also, yes, narcissists are usually quite charming because they want something from people and they know how to charm their way into getting it. So, maybe he just wanted to be a Patrick Bateman type or a character from a Bret Easton Ellis novel like Glamorama and maybe he was kidding himself. I’m half tempted to Google him.
I'm not taking it too personally, honestly. I'm trying to be more like you and I kept you in my head, like a little angel in my shoulder, "Make sure it's worth the investment."
And I was analysing things said and done and realising it wasn't worth it. He isn't a person who can give back. I went out of my way to remember and buy the things I recalled he liked eating and drinking and he did acknowledge that and its thoughtfulness, but he didn't return the thoughtfulness. He didn't clean up after dinner or do any of those things I'd done and, while relationships aren't tit for tat, they should be mindful and conscious.
So, you're right; I'm learning a lot about myself. I don't know what exactly he's looking for, but I'm of the opinion that he won't find it readily. I couldn't read him much. He valued attractiveness, but I couldn't tell if he valued intelligence. I couldn't even tell why he valued attractiveness except for the obvious – a trophy? Other reasons? I don't even know.
Narcissist – as he aptly labels himself – couldn't be more accurate. Maybe my words sound bitter? They aren't meant to be – just assessing what I saw and observed. I was mostly shocked how such an individual could get on in the world, so insular and so into himself.
I think, above all, I value niceness and humility. I want people to be kind and compassionate and thoughtful. He was shallow and arrogant. And he was very apt to judge others, but not reflect on himself. I could be wrong, of course, but possibly not.
He was also impossibly selfish at times. Remember the sprouts he made I told you about? Well, what I didn't tell you was that he pretty much consumed them all before we'd even begun dinner – because they tasted so good. I did get some but very few. Sharing obviously wasn't in his vocabulary. And there are innumerable instances that spring to mind.
I found his company okay, but not pleasant. We had conversations but rarely connected mentally or on the same page.
He'd look at me, but not really look at me; his stare was almost cold and blank. I just put my finger on it; there was no smile behind his eyes. He once held my face – when I came to see him in Tallahassee – and told me, "You look great." But I think that was the only compliment he ever really gave me.
That and once I was kissing his arm and he looked at me and I asked what he was thinking and he said that he liked the image he was seeing. Unlike Bramwell, he never commented on my personality, never said something I'd said was "cute," never agreed with my opinions or ever seemed to be contemplating what'd I'd said. As I said earlier, his opinions were the only opinions and one almost had to apologise – or felt one needed to apologise – for differing from what was obviously the best opinion in the world.
Our last exchange:
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
8.39 pm: Elaine: Hope you made it to your mum’s safely. Take care and good luck.
8.56 pm: PB: Thank you. Good luck to you as well.
I mean I sounded so jovial. I did draft him an email enumerating all the things wrong with him and I kept it in my draft for years, but I never did send it. I guess even neurotic past me knew that it didn’t even matter. He was going to be who he was and he’d never take any criticism or pointers on board. Do I wish him well? I’m not even sure. That was the last I heard of him.
I’d written somewhere that the sexual chemistry was almost Bramwell-level (you know, RHSG) but was it? I don’t even remember anymore. I mean safe sex 101 is consent and that finger wasn’t it. Even Gen Z know the importance of consent these days.
Like the Scandinavian Lit Prof (more later), he decided he wasn’t into me and wanted to take off as fast as he could. I think he ended up in LA. We didn’t stay in touch. Also, he stole my toothpaste. What a dick!
Next up, unlike when I didn’t sleep with one of the Heathers’ boyfriends, the time I was a bad friend and slept with my gorgeous model-esque housemate’s ex-boyfriend – and then I flirted with his housemate too. I was shameless I tell you! Or maybe as the charming Southern phrase goes, I was just a hot mess.
Don’t forget to check out the other thirty-two posts I’ve written, including the one on why I’m writing this newsletter/blog in the first place.
Have you ever told people that a date or relationship went or were going better than they did? Why? Do I even know why I wanted to romanticise this absolutely bat-shit exchange? No idea. Note for therapy maybe? Nah! It’s not even worth dwelling on this (six posts have been therapy enough). But my therapist did say that I should forgive my past self for trying to do my best with the tools I had at the time and we behave in ways to protect ourselves from emotional damage and harm.
I want to give younger Elaine a hug! You were indeed doing the best you could with the tools you had - you were trying to analyze what was going on and how you felt about things, but sometimes that kind of insight only comes with experience. I'm so glad you've found someone just as awesome as you are now!