I was taken aback when my husband, Jake, presented me with a schedule to supposedly help me “become a better wife.” Instead of reacting with anger, I chose to play along.

Little did Jake know, a valuable lesson awaited him, prompting him to reevaluate his fresh marriage perspective.

In our marriage, I’ve always been the steady one. Jake, bless him, could easily get caught up in new ideas—whether it was a budding hobby or a YouTube video promising revolutionary life changes.

A man on an armchair | Source: Pexels

Everything was fine until Jake befriended Steve. Steve was the kind of guy who equated loud opinions with correctness, often speaking over others when questioned.

Perpetually single (who would have guessed?), Steve generously imparted relationship wisdom to his married colleagues, Jake included, leaving my dear husband enamored with Steve’s bravado.

I didn’t give it much thought until Jake adopted some unsettling viewpoints.

“Steve says relationships flourish when the wife runs the household,” Jake stated, or “Steve believes it’s crucial for wives to maintain their appearance, regardless of marital longevity.”

These comments, while initially something to brush off, started to irritate me. Jake’s attitude began to shift, marked by disapproving looks if I ordered takeout or vocal displeasure over an unkept laundry pile, seemingly forgetting my full-time work commitments.

Then came the game-changer. One evening, he came home with The List.

He had me sit at the kitchen table, revealing a carefully folded paper as he slid it toward me.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jake began, his voice lined with an unfamiliar condescension. “You’re a wonderful wife, Lisa, but there’s always room for growth.”

My eyebrows climbed at his words. “Oh really?”

He nodded, unaware of the dangerous ground he tread. “Steve mentioned our marriage could enhance if you stepped up a bit.”

The paper displayed a schedule titled “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” in large, bold letters.

Jake, following Steve’s cues—despite Steve’s lack of relationship experience—had meticulously planned my week aimed at my “improvement” as his spouse.

The routine included a 5 a.m. wake-up to prep a gourmet breakfast, a daily gym session to “stay fit,” followed by an array of household chores—all before heading to work. Evenings involved home-cooked meals and preparing snacks for Jake and his friends during their get-togethers.

A woman glancing down | Source: Pexels

The schedule was sexist and offensive beyond words, leaving me speechless as I wondered if Jake had taken leave of his senses.

“This is meant to be beneficial for you and us,” he rambled on, blissfully ignorant.

“Steve says maintaining structure is vital, and I think this guidance could be helpful —”

“How would it help me?” I interrupted, my tone unnervingly calm. Jake blinked, surprised, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Well, offering some direction and a structured plan.”

Although tempted, I resisted throwing the paper back at him. Instead, something unexpected from within surfaced: I smiled.

“You know, you’re right, Jake,” I chirped sweetly. “I’m lucky to have this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”

The relief on his face was palpable. I almost pitied him as I moved to place the list on the fridge. Almost. Unbeknownst to him, a new plan was underway.

The next morning, I perused the outrageous schedule, smirking. If Jake felt okay presenting me with a list of “improvements,” he’d soon discover the full extent structure could take in our lives.

Seizing my laptop, I began creating “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” Wanting an immaculate wife came with its own set of costs.

I mirrored his suggestions, including his beloved gym membership. “$1,200 for a personal trainer,” I keyed in, suppressing a chuckle.

Next, I tackled the topic of food. Gourmet meals were not achievable on our current budget. The idea of buying strictly organic, non-GMO produce was financially ludicrous.

“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote, suggesting he also consider a cooking class. These weren’t cheap, but quality comes at a price.

Imagining Jake’s reaction to this made me giggle. But my pièce de résistance awaited.

I couldn’t perform up to spec and hold down my job. For Jake’s plan to come to fruition, compensating my lost salary was necessary.

After a quick calculation of my income, I added another entry detailing “$75,000 annually to replace Lisa’s salary—now your full-time assistant, maid, and chef.” Stifling laughter, I solidified my plan.

Finally, I included a suggestion for expanding our home. Jake and his friends required their own hangout zone to prevent disrupting my rigid new schedule.

“$50,000 for a ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends won’t interfere with Lisa’s timetable.”

The finished list was both an artistic triumph and financial nightmare. More than mere revenge, it was a wake-up call.

Printing the list, I neatly placed it on the kitchen counter, anticipating Jake’s return. When he arrived later, his spirits were high.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, dropping his keys near my creation. “What’s this?”

Feigning indifference, I stifled a grin as he picked it up. “Just a list to help you become the best husband, ever,” I replied sweetly.

Jake chuckled, expecting lighthearted banter. As he scanned the list, his smile faded. The reality of this plan hit hard.

“1,200 dollars for a personal trainer? 700 a month for groceries? What is this?”

Leaning casually, I crossed my arms.

“Well, you asked for 5 a.m. starts, gourmet meals, immaculate housework, and hosting duties, so we better budget accordingly,” I stated.

Pale and flipping through pages, Jake exclaimed, “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting?”

I shrugged. “Combining work with perfection isn’t feasible.”

Sock and paper in hand, Jake stood stunned.

The absurdity became apparent, his smug demeanor vanished as realization dawned.

“I… didn’t mean this,” he stammered. “Just thought —”

“That I was fixable?” I asked, steady yet hurt. “Marriage thrives on respect, not routine. Pull anything like this again, and it costs way more.”

Silence lingered, marking an end to our awkward chapter. Jake sighed, shoulders softening as clarity returned.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted. “Steve skewed my view, but now it’s clear… I was foolish.”

Watching him regain his sense was cathartic. “You think Steve knows life enough for advice? Now he can’t live luxuriously.”

A couple having a heated discussion | Source: Midjourney

“True,” Jake agreed, humbly acknowledging the costly dream. “He lacks knowledge of these costs or the demeaning nature of this.”

Reuniting as equals, we ripped The List apart. Team unity returned, stronger through this shared revelation.

Torn paper | Source: Pexels

Perhaps this journey clarified how marriage thrives — not through competition but cooperation and understanding.