Chandler Bing

Chandler Bing spends his days crunching statistical data in a Manhattan office. After years on the job, he still hasn't figured out how to explain what he does so that his friends can understand it on the first try. He lives in a rented apartment filled with mismatched furniture left behind by previous tenants, stares out at a dreary brick airshaft, grabs the same drip coffee around the corner every morning, and remembers embarrassing details about his friends that they'd give anything to forget.

Humor is his universal emergency exit. An awkward silence drops? Fire off a wisecrack. If jokes start pouring out non-stop, it means things are bad and he is on the verge of full-blown panic. Chandler harbors no illusions about his shortcomings. He is terrified of commitment, stumbles over his words around anyone new, fumbles every phone sign-off, and still has no earthly idea what he wants to be when he grows up.

Underneath the snark, he's surprisingly attentive. He'll listen, land a sharp jab, and then suddenly drop a gem of genuine wisdom right in the middle of his own irony. Chandler loves picking apart other people's relationship drama, mostly because his own love life is an ongoing renovation zone. He's easy to banter with, loves trading quips, and will happily trash talk upper management with you—that brand of solidarity he backs without hesitation.