Commitment Issues and Other Sarcastic Comments

The One With The Erection

It was 8:37 a.m. when Dylan woke to an empty bed, and in her groggy state, she panicked.

So when Dylan's eyelashes unglued themselves to look at the ceiling that morning, she took in a breath of morning air and realized a few things.

One, last night had actually happened. She wasn't sure if it had been an insanely vivid dream or not, but the logical part of Dylan's brain told her she definitely wasn't making their heart to heart moment up.

Two, she had slept in a bed with Chandler Bing. All night in fact. And it was a twin bed, so there was a 90% chance of unintentional cuddling. Or spooning. Or both.

Three, Chandler was not in said bed, which either meant the cuddling had gotten too intense and he had left to sleep in his own bed, or that he was just awake and Dylan was delirious.

Dylan rolled onto her side in search of her missing sleep mate, sticky sweat and long red sleep marks tattooing her skin. She only found a wrinkled indent in the sheets, with lingering slobber stains left on the pillow. Chandler, where was Chandler?

In her attempt to leave the bed Dylan tripped, eyelids still heavy and legs like wet noodles. Her knee rammed against the bedside table, almost knocking off the lamp and shooting a sharp pain through her sleepy nerves.

"SHIT--" She yelped into the morning, her first word very eloquent. "Shit, shit fuck shit--" She gripped onto her knee tightly, hoping the pain would subside. She let her body roll onto the floor, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw.

As the pain slowly disappeared, Dylan's surroundings began to clear. Soft light faded through the blinds, and she noticed the door open a crack. Standing up and running a hand through her morning hair, Dylan peeked her head out the bedroom door.

The hallway only held one sign of life; it was the offkey singing that echoed from behind the bathroom door. Dylan immediately recognized them as Chandler's horrible vocals; their taxi ride when they were carrying her stuff from her old flat had left an imprint in her mind that she could never escape.

"All my goodness--"

Oh god. Was Chandler singing Bon Iver? In the shower? Dylan slipped out of the couch in the same clothes she went to sleep with, an old and baggy off-white shirt which had seen better days and some cute shorts of a pyjama she supposedly didn't fit into anymore, making the short trek to the bathroom. On her way, she grabbed the video camera she'd bought a few weeks ago to document her New York life. The closer she got to the steamy door, the more she heard, and the more blackmail worthy her situation was becoming. It was loud and entirely ridiculous, and it was obvious he knew every single line. How often did Chandler even listen to this?

"I'll be looking through your eyes--"

Dylan suppressed a giggle, amazed that she was actually awake for this, but even more amazed that Chandler was still singing. How did he even know all the lyrics? She started to film.

She reached out for the bathroom doorknob and realized it was unlocked. She smiled devilishly and turned the knob slowly as to not alert Chandler of her presence. Dylan slipped into the bathroom, her bare feet hitting the slick tile. Steam surrounded the room and fogged up the mirror.

"All my goodness to show--"

Dylan wanted to laugh so badly, and it took every ounce of her self control just to contain it. Just a little bit longer and she'd have quality blackmail material.

"Why are you so far from saving me?--"

Dylan couldn't contain it anymore, she was laughing, her camera was shaking, and Chandler was screaming.