The Wrong Guy

Chandler paced the length of his apartment and bit on his thumbnail as he contemplated his next move. He stopped, spun around on his heels, and stared at the small computer monitor that was set on top of his kitchen counter. The cursor blinking incessantly only helped to bring his anxiety levels to a crescendo. He thought he was about to burst out of his skin and flop to the ground, an unrecognizable mess of something that used to be a man. He narrowed his eyes as he attempted to blur the images on the monitor. He wanted to damn this computer to hell. Betrayed by a device that just moments ago seemed to offer him a world of possibilities. It had filled him with uncharacteristic joy and optimism, and it took it away in a flash when one word appeared across the screen.

"Husband."

She was married. This woman he had spent close to thirty hours straight talking to, was married. He felt such a deep connection to this nameless, faceless woman. He felt like for the first time, he could be himself. There was no awkwardness. No uncomfortable social setting. No need to feel like he was performing. Just words on a screen, allowing him to say things he dared not utter aloud in front of people. Words he thought would make him seem weak, or foolish. Yet, this mysterious woman ate them up. He had never felt this kind of connection before. Not this fast. He was smitten, and he hadn't even seen her face.

He thought that perhaps, the world was finally rewarding Chandler Bing. Making up for years of being ignored by women. Being the invisible man when it comes to the courtship cold wars that he had felt left out of for most of his adult life. He even began to fantasize that this woman could be who he had been waiting for his entire life. Someone who would see the man inside the boy and choose him over all others.

Now he knows, it was too good to be true. She was in love with someone else. She committed herself to another man. At best, she led him on with a string of messages and emails that made him feel as if he had finally found someone special. At worst, her perceived infidelity was more proof that his aversion to relationships and commitment was warranted. Either way, the dream he had was over, and all he was left with was the nightmare he woke up in where she was married and he was alone.

"Oh my."

Chandler glanced over at Phoebe who had look of measured excitement on her face as she moved closer to the computer.

"What?"

"She wants to meet you in person."

Chandler felt this bitter rage build up in his throat like bile. He would love to meet this woman. To have them look upon each other's face and know in that instant that they were meant to be together. But he couldn't do that now. Not with what he knows. No matter how much he may want this. He rolled his eyes as he wondered why things like this always seemed to happen to him. Every time he met a girl, even if only through a computer screen, the universe put up roadblocks and pulled the rug out from under his feet.

"Hey, look Phoebe, I want to meet her in person too. But she's married. She has a husband."

Phoebe slumped her shoulders and gave him this look he had seen dozens of times before. This countenance of sympathetic wisdom. As if Chandler was some poor, ignorant child, unschooled in the ways of the world.

"What if the husband person is the wrong guy and you are the right guy?" She punctuated her point with demonstrative gestures, as if perhaps there were these invisible threads connecting her hands to his body, and she was dragging him towards his destiny. "I mean, you don't get chances like this all the time."

Chandler slowly approached the computer, shivering with apprehension. His mind went back to the last time he felt this infatuated with someone. Aurora. She was perfect. Beautiful, smart, exotic, funny; everything a man could ever want. But she was too entangled with other men for Chandler to have a real connection with her. He needed more than to just be some other man. He wanted a relationship. One where it would be just the two of them.

Chandler licked his lips as he looked at the screen. He let his hand roll over his chin and slowly shook his head.

"No. I can't"

Phoebe emphatically waved her arms again, like a toddler winding itself up before a tantrum.

"Why not!"

"I can't do that Pheebs. What if they have kids? I know what it's like to have some stranger break up your family. I can't be that guy."

Phoebe stomped her foot. "Oooohhh. Chandler, what if this is your only shot? Don't you want someone that you can…" She leaned over and scrutinized the screen. "…HH with in the real world?"

"Yeah. I do. Just, not like this."

Chandler slowly walked over and closed the cover to the computer. It felt as if it were a herculean feat of strength to give this opportunity away. He already started to feel this emptiness inside himself that he had filled with conversations with his mysterious, married online paramour. He felt like a fool for letting himself believe that this might have been his chance to finally overcome his crushing fears about relationships and commitment. That he might make an earnest effort with a woman. Instead, it is now just another life experience that he can make a joke about to cover up his disappointment. He looked back at Phoebe and she stared at him with a mix of sadness and anger. He wondered, what if she was right? What if this husband person was the wrong guy? Was he the right guy? And if he wasn't the right guy for her, then who was he right for?


Monica looked up at Richard and could not believe what she was about to say. Here was this thoughtful, handsome, sweet man whom she loved. The kind of man she had been searching for her whole life. The kind of man she thought she was going to marry, and she was about to throw it all away. For some reason, she looked down at her stomach. In a split-second, images of her trying to raise a child with a man who was only doing this because he wanted to be with her flooded her mind. The inevitable resentment. Neglect. Hollow gestures. It was a nightmare scenario she could not allow her child to endure.

She wondered if she was overreacting. To an outside observer, Richard's offer may have the appearance of a selfless act of kindness for the woman he loves. A sacrifice he was willing to make so that she could live out her dreams of motherhood. But when she looked into his eyes, she knew what she had to do. She saw what those who were uninitiated to the subtle, quiet nature of this man could never see. His eyes were filled with uncertainty and regret. She could see the hesitation and ominous dark cloud building in his steely glare. His mind already recalculating years of planning a life of leisure, without the burden of work or raising children. A life he wanted her to share with him. A life he had no doubt been thinking of before she ever conjured up her own dreams.

Maybe that was the problem. They were simply two people out of time. The twenty-year gap she had brushed off so many times before finally reared its ugly head. He had already lived the life that she was looking forward to experiencing for herself. Everything she wanted to do; he had already done. While he would be there, dutifully by her side, she would still feel alone. All her "firsts" shared with no one. Her wedding, her first child, her first home, her first grandchild. All of it just a repeat for Richard. Perhaps, less lustrous the second time around. How could she raise a baby with a man who did not feel everything she would feel the first time they both saw that adorable face peeking through the hospital blanket. Someone just as committed to diving headfirst into the unknown with only love and devotion to guide them.

What if he grew cynical about everything she held in earnest adoration? What if he were resentful over the life he gave away? It would be a poisonous seed to grow their family tree from. One that could only bear poison fruit. No matter how kind, sweet, loving and wonderful that man was, it would eat away until he became rotten and hollow. She knew that in this moment. She knew that this was over.

She looked Richard in his eyes and caressed his cheek as she prepared herself to break both of their hearts. It would no doubt be the hardest, harshest thing she would ever have to do. The cost of what she was about to say caused her to pause for a moment with doubt. She looked at him once more, saw his eyes, and knew that if this was the price she had to pay to protect the hearts of her unborn children, then she would need to be strong in her convictions. It was far better for her to find out now that he was not the right guy, no matter how much she wished he were.


With Phoebe long gone, Chandler used the hours alone to sit in his Barcalounger and brood. He tossed an apple from hand-to-hand furiously as he reflected on his whirlwind romance that never was. He did not even move to turn on the lights when the sun began to set, and simply rocked back-and-forth in the darkness.

His head spun around when he heard the familiar sound of the door to apartment twenty pulled shut. His entire body seemed to deflate as he let out a relived sigh.

"Finally."

Chandler had been waiting all night for everyone to return home from Barry and Mindy's wedding. He needed things to get back to normal. No more dwelling on what could have been. No more sitting in a dark room sulking as he longingly looked at his computer. No more wondering if he should turn it back on, forget his misgivings, and throw caution to the wind. Talk to her. See her. Forget that she has a husband. Be that guy he hates. The guy who doesn't care whose feelings get trampled under his own charge to get what he wants. Be a jerk.

He knew the cure for dark thoughts like this. He needed Ross and Rachel to distract him with their latest drama. He needed Joey to say something so mind-numbingly stupid that the only proper response is an exasperated gasp. He needed Monica to give him the kind of attention that only she can when one of her friends needed saving before they drowned in the river of their own misery. He couldn't wait to burst into that apartment so he could complain about what happened with his brief online romance. It was the only way he was going to be able to get to sleep. The perfect cocktail that only his friends could offer him in times like this. Vent. Get some sympathy. Make jokes. Hear jokes made at his expense. And, most of all, to really feel better, see Rachel in that dress one more time.

He jumped from his chair and found himself across the hall and opening the door faster than he thought possible. He peeked inside and only found shadows in Monica and Rachel's darkened apartment. Chandler could hear someone rustling around. Noise coming from one of the bedrooms. He walked over to the couch and plopped down in the middle, throwing his feet up on the table as he let out a long, loud sigh in an exaggeratedly exasperated manner.

"Hellooooo!"

He could only hear what sounded like dresser drawers opening and closing as someone shuffled about in Monica's bedroom.

"Oh thank god somebody is home. You know that girl I was talking to? The one from the computer? She's really into me and she wants to meet me and oh, by the way, she is also married."

He gestured towards the empty air outside of Monica's door and scoffed.

"Can you believe it! Married! Of all the luck. I finally meet a great girl and she's married. I'm telling you; that's it, I am never going to find someone. You guys don't know how lucky you are to be with somebody."

Monica appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and stood in her doorway; her face hidden by shadows. Her shoulders slumped so low they appeared as if they were about to snap off and roll around on the floor. She let out a tiny squeak and dropped her head.

Chandler took his feet from the coffee table and sat up. He leaned forward and instinctively reached his hand out to her. "Mon?"

Monica stepped into the light. Chandler could see her sullen eyes which seemed to contrast with her still, almost placid facial expression. Her make-up was smudged and smeared, tipping him off that she had been crying. Yet, now, with her cheeks red, and her stoic, unwavering chin, she appeared to be out of tears. As her eyes stayed down and she shambled towards the couch, she looked to be in shock. Her brain now shut off and no longer capable of processing her emotions.

"Richard and I broke up."

Chandler froze as he stood up. He had one hand stretched out to comfort her, but suddenly felt as if any effort he made would be insufficient. She broke up with Richard. The Richard. The one everyone thought she would no doubt settle down with. He was ill prepared to soothe a storm of this nature. All Chandler could do was stammer as he let a stunned expression fall upon his face.

"Oh. Wait? What? Why?"

Monica slumped over to the couch and crashed down, face first.

"Does it matter?"

Chandler brought his hand to his lips and steadied himself. "I, uh, I don't know. Does it?"

He looked down at her as she buried her face in one of the countless throw-pillows she had decorated her couch with. He focused on the shiny purple surface as he tried to work up the nerve to say something. He was stymied by Monica's depression.

"Well, I guess my news isn't that big anymore."

Monica lifted her head and tossed the pillow to the other side of the couch. "God. I smell him everywhere. He's in my sheets, he's on the couch. I can't escape him."

"Really?" Chandler looked around and sniffed loudly which caused Monica to lift her head and shoot him a stern look.

"Uh, do you want to stay at our place? You could sleep in one of our beds. I can promise it does not smell like Richard over there, All our place smells like is spilled beer, pizza and Chinese food."

Monica rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Chandler stood there, silently frozen between the coffee table and the couch.

"Maybe I should get out of here. At least for the night. Maybe I should go to my parents."

Chandler nodded. "Yeah, get away from anything that reminds you of Richard. That's probably a good idea."

"Oh, but my dad reminds me of Richard."

Chandler screwed his face up in disgust. "That's kind of gross."

"Not like that!" Monica let out a laugh despite herself. "You know what. Let's go somewhere. Do you want to go somewhere?"

Chandler looked around the room and then back at Monica. "Uh, where?"

"Somewhere with booze."

"Okay. Sure. We should get out of here. Clear your head. Why don't you change, and I'll go grab my wallet and I'll meet you back here."

Monica stood up and looked down at her clothes. "What's wrong with what I am wearing?"

Chandler winced and tilted his head as he looked her over. "Well, it kind of looks like it's covered in tears, snot, and make-up"

Monica nodded slowly as she ran the hem of her shirt between her fingers. "Oh. Okay."


Monica listlessly walked down the street, pointing with her finger at the restaurant near the corner.

"No. We can't go there. We used to get take-out from that place. Oh, and that place serves his favorite whiskey. That place has barstools that look like mustaches."

Chandler's eyes went wide and he chewed on his bottom lip in an attempt to temper his response. "Mon, we have been up and down every block in a five mile radius and you have found something wrong with every bar, restaurant and hot dog vendor that we've seen."

"Oh. Hot dogs. He loves hot dogs."

Chandler stepped off the curb and out into the street as he raised his hand to hail a cab.

"Okay. That's it. We have to get out of the Village."

Monica nodded as she walked over to him. "Maybe skip Midtown and the Upper West Side too."

Chandler rubbed his chin and looked around. "I've got it! You and Richard ever go to the airport?"

"What?"

A cab rolled up and Chandler opened the door. He placed his hand on the small of Monica's back and guided her into the back seat. "You two ever hang out at the airport?"

Monica wrinkled her brow and shook her head. "No."

"Great." Chandler slid in next to her and looked at the driver. "JFK."


Chandler held two shot glasses up to his eyes and tried to look through them.

"Wow. If I wore glasses, I would look weird."

Monica knocked back her shot and shook her head. "You're wearing them backwards. That's why you can't see anything."

Chandler looked up at the bar and squinted to see the television playing in the background.

"Ooo. The Knick game." He waved frantically at the bartender and beckoned her to him. "Can you turn this up! I love the Knicks."

Monica sighed. "Richard loved the Knicks."

Chandler wrapped Monica up and pat her on her shoulders. "Oh. Okay." He let her go and slumped over the bar as he leaned across and rested his elbows on the surface. "Hey, what else is on there, barkeep?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow and then hit a button on the remote. "Lets see; Knicks, Rangers. Rutgers Basketball. Working Girl."

"Working Girl! Put on Working Girl." Chandler sat up straight and smiled excitedly. "Ooo! Richard didn't like Working Girl, did he?"

Monica pursed her lips and shook her head. "No. I don't think any man likes that movie."

Chandler leaned back in his seat and put his feet up on the footrest under the bar. "Yeah, me neither. Totally lame." He then looked up at the screen. "Ooo! This is right before the party where she meets Jack Trainer."

"What?' Monica looked over at him with incredulous eyes.

"Uh, I only saw this because Harrison Ford was in it and I thought it was an Indiana Jones movie."

Monica turned back to her drink and flattened her mouth. Her eyebrow arched up as she eyed him suspiciously. "Hmmmm."

Chandler swung his chair around and faced out towards the airport. He watched people shuffling and rushing from one side to the other as they tried to get to their gates.

"What did I tell you. Nothing here to remind you of you know who, and, the airport is already so full of sad sacks and losers, no one will even notice us."

"I still don't know how you got us in here. Where did you learn that?"

"Gandalf."

"Who?"

"You remember. Mike Ganderson. From college. Ross and I used to party with him all the time. Remember in junior year, your parents had to wire money to us in Nova Scotia."

Monica eyes went wide as she slowly shook her head. "Oh yeah. I never liked that guy."

Chandler lifted his shot glass and tried to drain the last drop of alcohol from it as he held it in the air above his tongue. Satisfied it was empty he placed it back on the bar and then leaned back on his elbows.

"Yeah, well, we used to do this all the time. He would find an elderly couple and then go to the counter and tell them they were his mee-maw and pee-paw and that he needed a pass to bring them to their gate safely."

"Mee-maw and pee-paw?"

"Yeah. Anyway, we'd come in here and then drink out faces off. Gandalf would sneak away and buy us tickets for some random flight, and we'd find ourselves all over the place. Oh man. Those were good times."

Monica twisted her face up. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. There was this one time, we went to Cleveland. We were ready to par-tay! Only, by the time we got there it was way after midnight, and nothing was open and we didn't have any more money so we just slept in the terminal."

"Wow. You guys really were party animals."

Chandler swung around again and gestured to the bartender for two more drinks. "Yeah. We were pretty cool" He then looked up at the TV. "Oh, this is where she leaves because she thinks they slept together. But they didn't. They just got drunk and passed out. But they like each other."

"What? I thought you didn't like this movie."

Chandler lowered his head and smiled sheepishly at Monica. She could not help but smile back. The bartender walked over and placed two more shots in front of them. Monica lifted hers up and stared into the glass.

"I don't want to go back home."

Chandler knocked his shot back, made a face, and then looked around. His words started to slur together. "Well, we can stay until this bar closes and then go get ourselves some cinnamon rolls."

"No. I mean, I can't go home. He has stuff there. Ross and Rachel will come home and want to talk to me. I just...I don't want that." Monica slugged back her own drink and took a deep breath.

"What are you going to do? Get a hotel room and hide away for the next few months? Because that sounds like something I would do, not something Monica would do."

"Oh wow. You're right. I have to not be me! I need to be you!" Monica looked over at Chandler who was staring glassy eyed at the television. He pulled his glass close to his chest and sighed. Monica shook her head. "No. I definitely do not want to be like you." She then opened her eyes wide and tried to snap her fingers. "I need to be like Gandalf!"

"What?"

Monica spun around in her chair and grabbed Chandler by his shoulders, forcing him to face her as she shook him. "We do the Gandalf thing!"

"What Gandalf thing?"

"The thing you just told me about!"

Chandler laughed and turned his head to look back at the television. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Monica let out a frustrated groan and grabbed Chandler by the hand. "Come on!"


Monica and Chandler were still holding hands as they looked up at the board listing the arrivals and departures.

"Okay. Pick one."

"What? Mon, I don't think this is a good idea."

Monica squeezed his hand tightly and tugged him close to her. "You have a better one?"

"Yeah, we could go back and see Tess get the big contract!"

"Are you still talking about Working Girl!"

Chandler shrugged his shoulders and Monica let out a quick laugh.

"Just pick one."

"Okay, okay. Don't rush me."

Monica pointed at the screen. "Ooo, Paris, or London!"

"We don't have passports."

A dejected expression fell over her face. "Oh, uh, Barbados? Do we need a passport for that?"

Chandler squinted his eyes. "Yeah. I think so. Hey, Buffalo."

"I am not making my one crazy thing I do flying into Buffalo."

"Cleveland?"

Monica glared at Chandler and then leaned into him as he put his arm around her shoulder. The two of them stood there, huddled together as they read the names of cities that flashed across the board.

"I don't want to go somewhere and just sleep in a terminal. We need a city that's open all night."

Chandler pointed towards the board and tilted his head. "I mean…"

"That's perfect!" Monica practically jumped out of her shoes as she dragged him to the counter. "You have money right?"

"What?"

"I work at a diner wearing fake boobs. How much disposable income do you think I have?"

Chandler rolled his eyes and slipped his credit card out of his wallet. "Fine. Fine." He then looked at the woman behind the counter. "Two tickets to Vegas please."


A/N - I had a plan! (somewhere Babatomyfirends is laughing at me.) I wasn't going to start this fic until I finished a few others. But it kept growing and growing in my head and I had to write it.

This was inspired by a few things. First; I watched the season two finale, and when Phoebe said "what if the husband guy is the wrong guy." I laughed because it was also the episode where Monica and Richard break-up. It felt very prescient to the future of the show when Monica and Chandler get together. Like Phoebe was really talking about Richard. Then in a weird twist, the very next episode that aired was season five episode one. They went from Monica and Richard breaking up to Monica and Chandler being on London time. It was crazy. Add to that how season two has some of my favorite pre-mondler content, and how I really don't like season three Chandler, and this idea of changing one choice he makes and bringing them together at the end of the episode was born.

I do plan on finishing the Phoebe story soon, updating the Rachel story, and I am working on getting ready to continue the post-series story. More plans that I won't actually get accomplished. (more laughter). Anyway, hopefully you made it to the end here. Thanks for taking the time to read, and as always, thanks to anyone who leaves a review.