I couldn’t believe my eyes when Jake, my husband, handed me a carefully written schedule titled “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife.” For a moment, I just stared at the paper, my brain struggling to process the absurdity of it. But instead of blowing up, I took a deep breath and made a decision—I’d play along.
Jake had no idea he was about to learn a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
The Beginning of the Madness
I’ve always been the calm and rational one in our marriage. Jake, on the other hand, was easily influenced—whether it was by a new diet, a self-improvement book, or a YouTube video promising to unlock the secrets of life in three simple steps.
We had a good relationship, a strong one, or so I thought. That was until Steve entered the picture.
Steve was one of Jake’s new friends from work, and let’s just say, he was that guy. Loud, opinionated, and always convinced he was right, even when he clearly wasn’t. He was also very single—shocking, I know—and had somehow positioned himself as the self-declared relationship expert among his married colleagues. And my dear husband? Well, he fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. But then Jake started making strange comments.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he casually mentioned one evening while watching TV.
Or, “Steve thinks women should always look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, Steve thinks that, does he? How fascinating.”
But it didn’t stop there. I noticed Jake observing me differently—raising an eyebrow if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, sighing when the laundry wasn’t folded immediately, as if my personal and professional responsibilities were suddenly unacceptable.
And then came The List.
The List That Changed Everything
One evening, Jake walked into the kitchen, his face serious. He pulled out a folded piece of paper, smoothed it out on the table, and slid it toward me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice filled with an odd mixture of authority and condescension. “You’re an amazing wife, Lisa. But…”
“But?” I raised an eyebrow.
He nodded as if he were about to gift me with divine wisdom. “Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a little.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. I hadn’t even read it yet, and I already felt my blood pressure rising.
I unfolded it, and there it was: Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife.
Jake had literally mapped out my entire week based on what Steve—a man who had never maintained a relationship longer than a grocery store checkout line—thought I should do to improve myself as a wife.
According to this schedule, I was to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to cook Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then, I’d hit the gym for an hour because, apparently, staying in shape was very important.
Next? Chores. Endless chores. Laundry, deep-cleaning the house, ironing his shirts—all before heading off to my full-time job.
Evenings were reserved for cooking elaborate meals from scratch, entertaining Jake and his friends with homemade snacks, and of course, looking flawless while doing it all.
I stared at him. “You actually wrote this down?”
“This will be great for you! For us!” He beamed, oblivious to the ticking time bomb he had just activated. “Steve says structure is key, and I think you could really benefit from—”
“I could benefit from what?” My voice was eerily calm.
Jake hesitated but recovered quickly. “From having some guidance, a plan to keep things in order.”
I exhaled slowly. I wanted to rip the paper to shreds and throw it in his face. I wanted to scream, but instead, I did something far more dangerous: I smiled.
“You know what, Jake?” I said sweetly. “You’re right. This is an amazing idea. I’ll start tomorrow.”
His face lit up. He had no idea what was coming.
The Counterattack
The next morning, I poured myself a cup of coffee, sat at my laptop, and got to work on my list.
If Jake wanted structure, I’d give him structure.
I titled it: Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.
I started by listing his new responsibilities. If I had to wake up at 5 a.m., so did he. After all, a true partnership meant equality.
Then came the cost of his vision.
Personal trainer to keep me in shape? $1,200 a year.
Organic, non-GMO, free-range groceries for his high-class meals? $700 per month.
Cooking classes to perfect my “wife skills”? $500 per course.
And since there was no way I could handle all these tasks while working, I added: $75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary, as she is now a full-time house manager, chef, and personal assistant.
And my favorite part? A man cave for Jake and his friends. If they were going to be over so often, they needed their own space. $50,000 to build a separate room, so they don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.
I printed it out, set it neatly on the counter, and waited.
The Grand Reveal
Jake came home that evening in a great mood.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys. Then he spotted the paper. “What’s this?”
I sipped my tea, feigning innocence. “Oh, just a little something to help you become the best husband ever.”
He chuckled as he picked it up. But as his eyes scanned the first few lines, his smile faltered. His face went from amused to confused… to horrified.
“Wait… what? $1,200 for a trainer? $700 a month for groceries? Seventy-five grand?!” He gaped at me. “Lisa, are you quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “I have to. How else am I supposed to follow your plan?”
Jake sat down, staring at the paper. I could see the realization dawning in real-time.
“I… I didn’t mean…” He looked up, his face suddenly pale. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought—”
“You thought I should improve myself, like some sort of project?” My voice was calm, but the weight of my words made him flinch. “Jake, marriage isn’t about control. It’s about respect. And if you ever try to fix me again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”
Silence. Then, finally, he sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I got carried away.”
I nodded. “Yes. You did.”
He rubbed his face, exhaling heavily. “Steve is an idiot, isn’t he?”
“Oh, definitely.”
We tore up the lists together. And for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.
