"Perfect" couples cause a peculiar surge of aggression in me. For many years they had the capacity to intimidate me in ways I shudder to remember. I particularly abhor the kind of perfection intimated by the pictures of the two couples in this collage. They seem to have their shit together in ways I can only imagine. Of course, I know that perfection is boring and two-dimensional--it's our imperfections that make us at least interesting--and so the nature of my aggression toward it has changed. Rather than wanting to beat them for being perfect, I want to beat them OUT of their perfection, not for my sake, but for their own. Perfection is a weight that none of us should have to bear. And frankly, it gives the rest of us a bad name.