A/N: Dedicated to Amy, because, well, I think we can all agree she's just about the best thing since sliced bread. And I really mean it, m'dear. You're cooler than bread. I hope you take it to heart.


"I mess up a lot, don't I?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Maybe it's a disorder."

"Of course it's not."

"So what are you saying, was I born without social know-how?"

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it before."

"I guess you have more important things to think about . . . friends, family, paying rent – you don't have time to assess my foibles."

"I guess so . . ."


"It's not a bad thing! I mean, if anything, I focus on all the good."

"Like what?"

"Okay, now you're just fishing for compliments."

"Maybe I really need a self-esteem booster."

"You're sweet, you're smart, you care about your friends, you're sensitive, successful –"

"If you call inputting numbers successful, then sure."

"Did you hear anything else I said?"

"I heard that most of your compliments started with the letter 's'."


"I know."

"I think you're too hard on yourself. You're a wonderful person."

"You're just saying that because I eat your cookies over the kitchen sink."

"That just means you're thoughtful."

"Or easily frightened."


"You just see, one of these days, my lack of street smarts will bite me in the ass and you, my friend, will be basking in the simplicity of Chandler-free life."

"That's not true! What's the worst that can happen?"

"Worst case scenario? I'm held at gunpoint and I begin to talk."


"I'm utterly serious – I'd get myself killed. I'll end up insulting their mom or their goldfish or something."

"I don't know what to say."

"My life is complete."

"Chandler, will you promise me something?"

"As long as it doesn't contain the words "burlesque" or "raining men", shoot."

"When you reach maturity, can I have front row seats?"