I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.
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Ive always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.
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But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.
He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake shouldve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steves confidence.
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I didnt think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.
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“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” hed say. Or “Steve thinks its important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long theyve been married.”
Id roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. Hed arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.
And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.
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He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.
“Ive been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadnt heard from him before. “Youre a great wife, Lisa. But theres room for improvement.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”
He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
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I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and hed written “Lisas Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.
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This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.
I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then Id hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”
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After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.
The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didnt even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.
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“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.
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“Steve says its important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”
“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if hed developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.
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“Youre right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “Im so lucky that you made me this schedule. Ill start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.
The next day, I couldnt help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.
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I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jakes Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.
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I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.
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Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasnt happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didnt come cheap.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. Hed probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasnt free.
I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jakes face when he saw this. But I wasnt done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.
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See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then hed have to compensate for the loss of my income.
I pulled up a calculator, estimating the value of my salary. Then, I added it to the list, complete with a little note: “$75,000 per year to replace Lisas salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.
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And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, theyd need a dedicated space that wouldnt intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.
“$50,000 to build a separate man cave so Jake and his friends dont disrupt Lisas schedule.”
By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasnt just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.
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I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.
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“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “Whats this?”
I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, its just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
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Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasnt the lighthearted joke he thought it was.
“Wait… what is all this?” He squinted at the numbers, his eyes widening as he saw the total costs. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”
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I leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.
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“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, dont you think?”
His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? Youre quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I cant work and be the perfect wife, right?”
He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.
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The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.
“I… I didnt mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didnt mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”
“You thought what? That I could improve myself like some project?” My voice was calm, but the hurt behind it was real. “Jake, marriage isnt about lists or routines. Its about respect. And if you ever try to fix me like this again, youll be paying a hell of a lot more than whats on that paper.”
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Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Jakes face softened, his shoulders slumping as he let out a deep sigh.
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“Im sorry,” he whispered. “I didnt realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see its… its toxic. Oh God, Ive been such a fool.”
I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, you have. Honestly, have you looked at Steves life? What makes you think he has the life experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”
The look on his face as my words hit home was priceless.
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“Youre right. And he could never afford to live like this.” He slapped the list with the back of his hand. “He… he has no idea about the costs involved, or how demeaning this is. Oh, Lisa, I got carried away again, didnt I?”
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“Yes, but well recover. Now, lets tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”
He smiled weakly, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah… lets do that.”
We ripped up the list together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.
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Maybe this was what we needed, a reminder that marriage isnt about one person being “better” than the other. Its about being better together.
Heres another story: Nora thought her marriage to Vincent was solid, but a routine kitchen cabinet check while he was away revealed a devastating secret. A seemingly ordinary jar held a truth so shocking that it led her to file for divorce on the spot. Click here to read more.
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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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