I was completely stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule titled “How to Become a Better Wife.” Honestly, I thought I’d explode with anger right then and there. But instead of yelling or snapping back, I just smiled and played along. What Jake didn’t know was that I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink this whole new attitude he’d suddenly developed about our marriage.
For as long as we’d been married, I’d always seen myself as the calm, steady one — the level-headed partner who kept things running smoothly. Jake? Bless him, he was the kind of guy who got caught up in the latest craze or some random life-hack video on YouTube that promised to “change your life in three easy steps.” He could get swept away by anything shiny and new.
We were doing fine until Jake met Steve.
Steve was the kind of guy who believed that being loud and opinionated automatically made him right. He never listened when someone tried to correct him and had a habit of talking over people like he was the center of the universe. Of course, Steve was always single — who else would take advice from a guy who’d never been in a serious relationship? Yet somehow, Jake got completely smitten by Steve’s confidence.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. But then the comments started creeping in. Little remarks that slowly poisoned the way Jake saw our marriage.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” Jake told me one day, almost like it was gospel.
Or, “Steve thinks it’s important for women to always look good for their husbands — no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to laugh it off, making sarcastic remarks like, “Oh, sure, because that’s exactly how marriage works.” But inside, it was starting to get under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d raise his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking dinner, and sigh loudly if the laundry sat for a day or two because, you know, I had a full-time job too.
Then, one night, it happened. Jake came home holding something in his hand — a carefully written list.
He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded the paper, and slid it across to me like a solemn judge handing down a verdict.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice dripping with a strange, almost condescending tone I’d never heard before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But I think there’s room for improvement.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh really?”
He nodded eagerly, oblivious to the warning bells going off in my head. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
I looked down at the paper. Written at the top in big, bold letters were the words: “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife.”
This wasn’t just any list — Jake had mapped out my entire week, all based on what Steve, a single guy with zero relationship experience, thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.
According to this schedule, I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then, I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.” After that? A long list of chores — cleaning, laundry, ironing — all before even leaving for work.
Every evening, I’d cook a meal from scratch and prepare fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out.
It was sexist, insulting, and downright ridiculous on so many levels. I stared at Jake, wondering if he’d lost his mind.
“This will be great for us,” he added, completely missing how offensive this was. “Steve says structure is important, and I think you could really benefit from some guidance.”
I interrupted, my voice calm but sharp: “I could benefit from what, exactly?”
Jake blinked, caught off guard, but quickly recovered. “Well, you know… from having a schedule.”
I almost threw the paper in his face and asked if he wanted to get divorced right then. But instead, I did something unexpected — I smiled.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly, “I’m so lucky you made this schedule for me. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was immediate. I almost felt sorry for him — almost. He had no idea what was coming.
The next morning, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could just hand me a list of “improvements” and expect me to follow, he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.
I opened my laptop and started a new document, titled: “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a price for perfection.
I began listing everything he suggested for me, starting with the gym. Jake was obsessed with the idea of me having a personal trainer.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer,” I typed, barely able to hold back a laugh.
Then, the food. Jake wanted me to cook gourmet meals with all organic, free-range, non-GMO ingredients. The grocery bill would skyrocket.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote, “plus a cooking class for Jake.”
I leaned back in my chair, chuckling as I imagined his face when he saw the numbers. But I wasn’t done.
If I was supposed to follow Jake’s insane schedule full-time, how would I manage my job? The obvious answer — I’d have to quit. That meant he’d have to cover my salary.
I grabbed a calculator and figured out the annual cost. Then added a note:
“$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary, since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
By this point, I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
And just for extra fun, I added a suggestion for Jake to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over all the time, they’d need a “man cave” — a place where they wouldn’t interfere with my perfectly planned life.
“$50,000 to build a separate man cave so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
When I finished, the list was a masterpiece. A financial nightmare and a big “wake-up call” all in one.
I printed it out and set it on the kitchen counter, waiting for Jake to come home.
When he walked in, humming a happy tune, he spotted the paper right away.
“Hey babe,” he called out, dropping his keys. “What’s this?”
I kept my face calm, fighting the urge to laugh as he picked it up.
“Oh, it’s just a little list I made for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along. But as he read, his smile faded. I could see the wheels turning in his head — the slow realization that this wasn’t a joke.
“Wait… what’s all this?” he asked, squinting at the numbers. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? Lisa, what the hell?”
I leaned on the counter, crossing my arms.
“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean, cook, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, don’t you think?”
His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”
He stared at the list, dumbfounded.
The numbers — the absurdity of his own demands — hit him all at once. His smugness vanished, replaced by a dawning understanding that he’d made a huge mistake.
“I… I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, eyes wide. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”
“You thought what?” I asked quietly, my voice steady but full of hurt. “That I could just ‘improve’ myself like some project? Marriage isn’t about lists or routines, Jake. It’s about respect. If you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”
The room fell silent. Jake’s face softened. He sighed deeply.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see… it’s toxic. I’ve been such a fool.”
I nodded slowly, watching him.
“Have you ever looked at Steve’s life? What makes you think a guy like that has the experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”
Jake’s expression was priceless — the truth hitting him hard.
“You’re right. And he could never afford to live like this,” he said, slapping the list with the back of his hand. “He has no idea about the costs or how demeaning this is. Oh, Lisa, I got carried away again, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I said, “but we’ll get through this. Now, let’s tear up these lists and go back to being equals.”
He smiled weakly, the tension lifting just a little.
“Yeah… let’s do that.”
We ripped the lists into pieces together. And for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were really on the same team again.