I couldn’t believe my eyes when Jake, my husband, handed me a carefully printed schedule titled “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife.” At first, I thought it was some kind of joke. But when I looked up at his face, he was completely serious.
Instead of blowing up, I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile. If Jake thought I would follow this ridiculous plan, he had another thing coming. Little did he know, he was about to learn a lesson he’d never forget.
How It All Started
Jake and I had always been solid. Sure, we had our ups and downs like any couple, but we respected each other. That was until he met Steve.
Steve was the kind of guy who thought being loud meant being right. He talked over people, dismissed opinions that didn’t match his own, and worst of all, he was always handing out relationship advice—despite being perpetually single.
For some reason, Jake was mesmerized by Steve’s confidence. And soon, little things started to change.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” Jake would say casually.
Or worse: “Steve thinks women should always look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I’d roll my eyes and shoot back a sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He sighed dramatically whenever I ordered takeout instead of cooking. He gave me disapproving looks if I let the laundry pile up. As if I didn’t have a full-time job just like him.
Then one evening, the real shocker came. He walked into the kitchen, sat down across from me, and slid a neatly folded piece of paper across the table.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his tone dripping with condescension. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s always room for improvement.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
He nodded, completely unaware of the danger zone he was stepping into. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a little.”
I unfolded the paper and nearly choked on my own disbelief.
The Schedule From Hell
The title alone—”Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife”—was enough to make me want to flip the table. But I read it anyway, my jaw tightening with every line.
I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then, I had to hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.” After that? A long list of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing—all before heading off to work. And when I got home? I was expected to cook a full meal from scratch and prepare snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over.
The sheer audacity left me speechless. Had my husband lost his mind? Had Steve poisoned him completely?
“This will be great for you. And for us,” Jake continued, completely unaware of the hurricane brewing inside me. “Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could really benefit from—”
“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm.
Jake blinked, caught off guard. “Well, you know… from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I took a deep breath. I wanted to rip that paper to shreds and ask him if he had a death wish. But instead, a different idea formed in my mind. I smiled sweetly.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said, my voice sugar-coated. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was almost adorable. Almost.
A Lesson in “Perfection”
The next morning, I looked at the list again and smirked. Oh, if Jake wanted structure, he was going to get structure.
I opened my laptop, started a new document, and titled it: “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.”
If I had to wake up at 5 a.m., then Jake needed to fund my fitness journey.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer,” I typed, barely holding back a giggle.
If I had to cook gourmet meals every day, we needed a bigger grocery budget. “$700 per month for organic, non-GMO, free-range ingredients.”
And since I was basically being turned into a full-time maid and chef, I’d need to quit my job.
“$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary.”
And of course, his precious “friends’ nights” couldn’t disrupt my new ultra-structured life. So I added:
“$50,000 to build a ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
By the time I finished, the list was a masterpiece—a financial and logistical nightmare that would make even Steve rethink his nonsense.
I printed it out, placed it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited.
Reality Hits
That evening, Jake strolled in, all smiles. “Hey, babe,” he said, dropping his keys on the counter. Then he spotted the paper. “What’s this?”
I shrugged innocently. “Oh, just a little schedule I put together—to help you become the best husband ever.”
Jake chuckled at first, thinking I was playing along. But then he started reading. And his smile disappeared.
His eyes darted over the expenses. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries?” He gawked at me. “Lisa, what the hell?”
I crossed my arms. “Well, you want me to be the perfect wife. I figured we should budget for perfection.”
Jake flipped through the pages, his face growing paler by the second. “$75,000 a year?! You’re quitting your job?!”
I nodded. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan?”
His face contorted as the realization hit him like a brick wall. He had completely, utterly messed up.
“I… I didn’t mean…” he stammered. “I just thought—”
“You thought what?” I asked, my voice calm but firm. “That I needed to ‘improve’ like some kind of self-improvement project?”
Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. The weight of his mistake was sinking in.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound logical, but now I see… it’s toxic. Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”
I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, you have. And honestly, have you ever looked at Steve’s life? Why on earth did you take advice from a guy who has never been in a relationship?”
Jake exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. And—wow—he could never afford to live like this.” He held up my list, shaking his head. “This is insane.”
I leaned forward. “Exactly. Marriage isn’t about one person being ‘better.’ 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.”
Jake swallowed hard, then gave a small, sheepish smile. “Yeah… let’s tear this up and go back to being equals.”
We ripped up the lists together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were on the same team again.
Marriage isn’t about perfection. It’s about partnership. And thankfully, Jake had finally figured that out.
