I was shocked when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule titled “Help Me Become a Better Wife.” Instead of blowing up, I decided to play along. I knew Jake was about to learn a big lesson about marriage.

In our relationship, I’ve always been the calm one, while Jake gets easily caught up in things. Whether it’s a new hobby or a YouTube video promising life changes in three easy steps, he’s all in. We were fine until Jake met Steve.

Steve was the kind of guy who thought being loud meant being right. He’d bulldoze anyone who tried to correct him and loved giving relationship advice, despite being single. To my surprise, Jake was captivated by Steve’s boldness and started repeating his misguided ideas.

At first, I didn’t worry too much. But soon, Jake’s comments began to hurt. “Steve says marriages work best when the wife takes charge of everything,” or “Steve thinks women should always look perfect for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”

I’d try to laugh it off, but it started to get under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d roll his eyes if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, or sigh when I couldn’t get to the laundry because, you know, I have a full-time job.

Then one night, Jake sat me down with “The List.”

With an odd tone, he slid a piece of paper across the table. “You’re a great wife, Lisa, but there’s room for improvement,” he said, not realizing how much trouble he was in.

I looked at the paper: “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife.” It was a detailed schedule that dictated my every move, based on Steve’s crazy ideas about what a wife “should” do.

According to this list, I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. to make Jake a gourmet breakfast, go to the gym, clean, do laundry, and cook dinner every night—all while working a full-time job. It was sexist, insulting, and downright ridiculous. But instead of losing my cool, I smiled.

“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

Relief washed over his face. He had no idea what was coming.

The next morning, I sat down at my laptop and created my own list: “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” I copied everything from his schedule but made a few tweaks. A personal trainer to stay in shape? That’ll be $1,200. Want me to cook like a professional chef? Our grocery bill just skyrocketed to $700 a month, and Jake might need to take a cooking class, too.

Then came the kicker. If I was going to be the “perfect wife,” I’d need to quit my job. So, I added my annual salary to the list: “$75,000 to replace Lisa’s income since she’ll now be your full-time maid, chef, and personal assistant.”

I could barely hold back my laughter as I imagined Jake’s reaction. The final touch? A $50,000 expense to build him a separate “man cave” so his friends wouldn’t interrupt my new, perfectly structured life.

That evening, Jake came home in a good mood—until he saw the list.

“What’s this?” he asked, puzzled.

“Oh, just a little guide I made for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”

As he read through the first few lines, his smile faded. The numbers, the demands, the sheer absurdity of it all hit him hard. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? And… wait, you’re quitting your job?”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? You wanted structure, right?”

The realization hit him. His smugness disappeared, replaced by panic. “I… I didn’t mean for it to be like this. Steve made it sound reasonable, but now I see how ridiculous it is.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Marriage isn’t about one person being ‘better’ than the other. It’s about mutual respect. If you ever try to ‘improve’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a lot more than what’s on that paper.”

Jake’s face softened, and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Lisa. I got carried away. You’re right—Steve’s advice was toxic.”

We tore up both lists together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were on the same team again. This whole experience reminded us that a strong marriage isn’t about perfection; it’s about growing better together.