"It's over!" Amy wailed, burying her head in her hands.

Leela grimaced. "Honey, I'm sure it's not over. It's just an argument, that's all. It'll blow over."

Amy fixed her with a tearful stare. "You don't understand," she gulped. "Kif and I never argue. He's always been so sweet and accomodating . . ."

Clank. Clank.

Bender propped his feet up on the conference table and produced a martini from the depths of his compartment.

"Sweet?" he scoffed, as he swilled lazily. "Accomodating? Sheesh, talk the guy up, why don't you?"

Amy's lip wobbled. "He was perfect," she said defensively. "You wouldn't understand."

"If he was so perfect, why'd he ditch you?"

Leela cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yes, I'm a little confused about that too . . ."

Amy dissolved into sobs again. "You remember Eduardo, right?"

Zoidberg looked up from the cat's cradle of bandages he was trying to extricate from his claws and clicked his pincers excitedly.

"The handsome Venetian? He had abs like a cheesegrater, so he did!"

"That's him," Amy sobbed forlornly. "I don't know why I did it – I love my Kiffy! But he's so . .. ugh!" She wrung her hands in frustration and looked beseechingly at Leela. "We never argued, ever. He's too perfect!"

Fry took a drag from one of his ever-present cans of Slurm, and frowned at her. "That's bad?"

Amy wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Yeah, because I'm not. I look at guys and think, oh, he's cute, even if I love Kif too much to ever do anything. But Kif only ever sees me. It makes me feel like a slut."

"What's wrong with being a slut?"

Amy ignored this. "And he opens savings accounts and pensions, but I blow all my wages on expensive shoes and lingerie, and then call my parents to pay the rent! And he never gets mad!"

"Uh . . ."

Amy turned away from Fry. "You're married," she implored Leela. "You and Lars must argue about a whole bunch of stuff."

Leela fiddled with the end of her ponytail. "Actually, we never fight," she said uncomfortably.

Amy blew her nose, loudly, and then stared slack-jawed at Leela. "But . . . but . . . how do you do it? How do you keep from going crazy? How do you stop feeling like you're going to mess it all up? It's like a pressure-cooker, I thought my head was going to explode!" Her lip wobbled again as a fresh wave of tears threatened to engulf her. "Kiffy's head used to explode!" she sobbed mournfully, and then she was off again.

Bender gulped back the last of his martini and swung his feet off the table. "Oy vey," he muttered.

Fry patted the Martian's hand awkwardly. "Aw, don't cry, Amy. If you're lonely, Hermes can make you a balloon Kif! He makes the best balloon animals."

Hermes grinned. "It's all in de exhale, mon."

Zoidberg nodded. "Yes!" he cried. "You can stick pins in his head, in the traditional human post-relationship ritual!"

"Dat oughtta relieve de tension."

Amy blew her nose again. "So it's really just me? I just suck at relationships? I can't believe I just asked Leela that. Um. Sorry, Leela. It's just . . . you were a miserable spinster for so long, and now you're even more happily married than Hermes-"

"Hey!" Hermes objected.

"What's your secret? Why am I getting it wrong? Am I too cute? Is it my horoscope?"

Leela narrowed her eye, still offended at the "miserable" comment.

"Must be."

Amy burst into fresh tears and ran, sobbing, from the room.

Bender rolled his eyes. "Way to go, big boots."

Fry finished his Slurm with a sucking sound that set Leela's teeth on edge, and proceeded to crumple up the can and lob it across the room, missing the garbage disposal chute by a good two feet.

"I don't get it," he said, bewildered. "How can you be too perfect?"

"Ah." Zoidberg nodded solemnly. "The female's problem is one of symmetry. If the gonads are not perfectly aligned it increases pressure in the head, and they will explode, so they will!"

The human occupants of the table recoiled, wincing. Bender began to mix himself another martini.

"You gasbags are all a minute away from exploding anyway, venting your waste out of every orifice . . . ugghhh." He shuddered.

Hermes shrugged. "Oh well, back to de office."

Fry popped open another can of Slurm. "Poor Amy," he muttered.

Leela looked down to find herself subconsciously twiddling with her wedding ring.

Actually, we never fight . . .

She had the sudden, creeping feeling Fry wasn't the only thing wrong in her marriage.

"Poor Amy," Lars said absently, checking the consistency of his marinade. "Yeah, a touch more cayenne pepper, I think . . ." At Leela's blank look, he pointed to the spice rack. "Third from the left, please."

Leela passed him the pepper. She hadn't had a frozen dinner since she met Lars.

"You never did tell me how you got to be such a great cook," she said teasingly.

Lars coughed. "Oh, you know," he said quickly. "It was something to do in the evenings. The lonely life of a bachelor and all that. Unless you'd rather cook? I'm not getting under your feet here, am I?"

He flashed her a worried smile.

Leela blinked. "No, of course not."

"Good." Lars drew a hand across his brow in exaggerated relief, making her smile. "So," he said. "Have you given it any thought? My suggestion from the other day, I mean."

"I . . . oh, I . . ."

At her expression, he backtracked. "That's okay. You know what, you've hardly had time to catch your breath, of course you haven't had time to think it over. Forget I said anything."

Leela nodded. "I have been busy," she said uneasily. "Amy isn't exactly pulling her weight at work, and I don't really know what to say to her . . ."

Lars flicked on the food processor. "That must be tough. It sounds like this break-up hit her really hard."

Leela hesitated. "She thinks Kif was too perfect. What do you think?"

Lars frowned. "Too perfect? How can the guy be too perfect?"

Leela toyed with a skewer. "Oh, you know . . . she says they never fought."

"That doesn't sound like much of a reason for splitting up. Sounds like they were on to a good thing."

Lars smiled at her. Leela smiled weakly back.

"We never fight," she said carefully.

Lars's gaze flickered towards her immediately.

"Leela," he said. "I waited my whole life for you. I'd have to be crazy to mess it up." He squeezed her hand, a little more tightly than was comfortable. "There's nothing more important to me than making you happy, whatever that takes."

He licked the spoon, and then passed it to her.

"Mrs Filmore, I do believe dinner is served."