disclaimer: i have an english degree and i wrote this paper to graduate and this thesis is over 60 pages long so please bear with the length of this excerpt:
As a representation of postmodern masculinity, Bateman theoretically must be a pillar of heterosexuality, as traditional western patriarchal masculinity and heterosexuality are inseparable. Throughout the book, Bateman’s disposable treatment of women, socially, romantically, and sexually, reflects the general attitude and objectification of women in uncritical heteroseuxal relationship dynamics, and he is often homophobic, vocally expressing his disdain towards gay men while sexualizing lesbians through his frequent viewing of lesbian pornography. However, Bateman feels no sort of affection towards women throughout the narrative, and is often disgusted by them. One way to understand his violence towards women throughout the novel is by framing it as his attempt to find pleasure with women in order to conform to societal expectations of heterosexuality: if he finds no pleasure in being with them romantically or sexually, he can find pleasure in brutalizing and killing them, legitimizing his claims to heterosexuality. However, Bateman does not lack sexuality or passion for others: in the chapter “Concert,” in which Bateman attends a U2 concert with some of his coworkers, he is overcome with a sense of emotional euphoria as the lead singer Bono stands in front of him:
I can see into Bono’s heart […] I’m receiving a message of some kind from the singer. It hits me that we have something in common, that we share a bond, and it’s not impossible to believe that an invisible cord attached to Bono has now encircled me […] everything’s getting clearer, my body alive and burning, on fire, and from nowhere a flash of white and binding light envelops me and I hear it, can actually feel, […] I’m left tingling, my face flushed, an aching erection pulsing against my thigh, my hands clenched in fists of tension. (146-147)
Bateman is essentially love-struck in the presence of Bono. Not only does he feel emotionally stimulated merely by another man’s presence — claiming that, presumably for the first time, he can “actually feel” — but he is also sexually aroused (146). Bateman immediately attempts to redirect this manic and erotic excitement to the elusive and mysterious — but ultimately inconsequential — Fisher account, a financial account that Paul Owen, one of Bateman’s identical coworkers, is managing. In his attempt to shift his desire from the emotionally and sexually overwhelming encounter with Bono, Bateman has an even further confusing and suggestive exchange with Owen, his narration commenting on Owen’s attractiveness: “‘I want it,’ [Bateman shouts,] staring at [Owen’s] perfect, even part; even his scalp is tan. / ‘You want what?’ [Owen] shouts back. ‘Marijuana?’ / ‘No. Nothing,’ [Bateman screams, his] throat raw” (148). Bateman, embarrassed and overwhelmed after a very erotically charged and confusing sequence of events, lets the topic drop. Intimacy with men simultaneously intrigues, confuses, and embarrasses Bateman, ultimately leaving him feeling defeated and emasculated. As a demonstration of the shortcomings and corruptions of patriarchal postmodern masculinity, this kind of awkward and fumbling interaction with other men and the concept of intimacy with other men speaks to the lack of emotional freedom and deep friendships that men are allowed to have. Men are allowed to be intrigued by each other — but only professionally, or in terms of competition. Anything else, as demonstrated by Bateman, is not only confusing and embarrassing, but also defeating and emasculating.
In the chapter “Lunch,” Bateman, in the company of one of his coworkers, stumbles upon a gay pride parade, which “[makes] his stomach turn,” where he “[watches] with a certain traumatized fascination” (139). Because of this, he sprints away into another street and has to change clothes, torture a dog to death, and give himsef a pedicure in order to calm down. However, Bateman frequently consumes lesbian pornography throughout the narrative, and after viewing it he does not feel the urge to run away and decompress through violence. It is not the act of same-sex sexuality that disturbs him, it is the fact that it is two men: by finding not only comfort but pride in the rejection of the heterosexual norms of masculinity, these men shake the very foundation that Bateman has constructed his persona and his personality on. Bateman’s outward attitude towards gay men juxtaposed with his ravenous consumption of lesbian pornography reflects the typical masculine attitude towards homosexuality: the issue is not with the act of same-sex attraction itself, but rather what that attraction implies about masculinity. Highly sexualized lesbianism is acceptable to a heterosexual male society only if it is filtered through a male-accessible lens, continuing to uphold male domination over women even if a man is not present in the relationship, but male homosexuality shakes the dominance structures that western patriarchal masculinity is built on. Bateman, obsessed with structures of dominance in order to make sense of his role in the world, is focused specifically on the act of homosexual sex: “[his] mind reeling with the concept that a human being, a man, could feel pride over sodomizing another man:” the power structure in which a man could dominate or be dominated by another man while still maintaining his masculinity and identity as a man is too much for Bateman to handle (139).
Though Bateman may claim to be innately disgusted by homosexual men, his behaviors towards them throughout the book and his internal values when faced with them reflect a different reality. One of Bateman’s coworkers, Luis — one of the only men to have a distinct personality separate from the monolithic horde of doppelgangers within the trading company — is presumably bisexual, if not homosexual with a girlfriend only to maintain a public image of heterosexuality. He fulfills a stereotypical gay role as a character, being generally flamboyant and sporting a very blatant crush on Bateman, who is aware of Luis’s interest. Bateman is generally annoyed by Luis’s flamboyance, and at one point attempts to strangle Luis while both of them are secluded in a public bathroom. The unintentional innuendo of this, however, is not lost on Luis:
Luis stares at me and I tense the muscles in my arms, preparing myself for a struggle that, disappointingly, never comes. / Instead he looks down at my wrists and for a moment wavers, as if he’s undecided about something, and then he lowers his head and … kisses my left wrist, and when he looks back at me, shly, it’s with an expression that’s … loving and only part awkward. His right hand reaches up and tenderly touches the side of my face. I stand there, frozen, my arms still stretched out in front of me, fingers still circled around Luis’s throat. / ‘God, Patrick,’ he whispers. ‘Why here?’ / […] I shake my head to clear it and look back at Luis, who has this horrible, love-struck grin plastered on his face, and I try to squeeze harder, my face twisted with exertion, but I can’t do it, my hands won’t tighten, and my arms, still stretched out, look ludicrous and useless in their fixed position. (158-159)
By all logic, Bateman should have no qualms killing Luis. With all of the disdain and hatred he has expressed towards him throughout the narrative, Bateman should be overjoyed with the opportunity to kill him. In this moment, too, Luis has caught Bateman by surprise and caused him a shocking amount of embarrassment, something that Bateman has a track record of responding violently and murderously to. However, he physically cannot bring himself to kill Luis: he can’t even hurt him. Even as Luis trails after him, continuing to flirt, Bateman is only flustered and embarrassed and brushes off his advances. Additionally, as noted by the ellipses in his narration, Bateman finds Luis’s response baffling, needing to take a moment to comprehend what Luis has just done. After this interaction with Luis, in the next chapter, Bateman encounters a stereotypically flamboyant gay man on the street who flirts with him. Bateman relishes the attention while feigning disgust, asserting that the “queer with the sharpei” must be enamored with him as “he gives [Bateman] the once-over with a quizzical smile […] [Bateman] can sense he’s flattered, not only that [Bateman has] noticed his dog but that [Bateman has] actually stopped to talk to him about it, and [he swears] the old bastard is positively flushed” (164-165). Bateman makes sure to note that, because of his own attractiveness, the man “just can’t help it” (165). Bateman flirts with the man, asking him questions about his dog, who, in a comically grotesque display of superficiality and wealth, like its owner, has had plastic surgery done on its wrinkles. Bateman then slaughters the animal and pounces on the gay man, stabbing him to death, shooting him in the head, and running in a frenzy up and down Broadway, drawing back to the imagery of performance, facades, and fallaciousness. Again, like how Bateman feigns disgust with homosexuality yet consumes lesbian pornography, it is entirely not because of a deep hatred of this man’s sexuality that Bateman is compelled to kill him: if that were the case, Luis would be dead by this point in the novel. Instead, Bateman murders this man because he is projecting his confusion and frustration over his interaction with Luis onto the gay man, seeing him as a suitable replacement for Luis, but sparing the man who has actually shown him affection. Luis, by surprising Bateman with a sexual advance instead of the horrified reaction that Bateman expected, embarrassed and flustered him, causing Bateman to lose social status in his mind. Even private moments are enough to affect Bateman’s fragile image of himself, reflecting how even when alone, the looming panopticon of gender expectations influence someone’s feelings and actions: Bateman is constantly performing.
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