But then came Steve. Steve was the kind of guy who thought having a loud opinion made him an expert. He never missed an opportunity to talk over someone who dared to disagree with him. Unsurprisingly, Steve was perpetually single, yet somehow felt qualified to give relationship advice to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately, Jake was captivated by Steve’s misplaced confidence.
And that’s when the trouble began. Jake, who used to shrug off relationship “advice,” suddenly started quoting Steve as if the man were a marriage expert. It was like he had joined some strange, one-man cult.
At first, I laughed it off with an eye roll or a sarcastic comeback. But it wasn’t long before I noticed his behavior shifting. If I ordered takeout after a long day, Jake’s raised eyebrows said it all. When laundry piled up, he’d let out a dramatic sigh, as if my full-time job didn’t exist.
Steve’s influence was seeping into our home, and I could feel the weight of it in every side-eye Jake threw my way. And then, the tipping point arrived.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, with a tone so condescending I could hardly believe it came from him. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”
My stomach tightened, and my brow furrowed. Was he serious?
That’s when I looked down and saw it: a full-blown schedule. At the top, written boldly, were the words “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife”
This wasn’t just a casual suggestion. Jake had meticulously mapped out my entire week, hour by hour, inspired by none other than Steve. It was absurd, insulting, and, frankly, laughable.
And that was just the beginning. My “duties” included cleaning, laundry, ironing, and making elaborate meals for Jake and his friends when they visited. He wanted me to run the household like some sort of 1950s sitcom wife—all while keeping my day job, of course.
It was a slap in the face. How could the man I married think this was okay?
I stared at him, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Did he really expect me to go along with this? To simply smile and nod?
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I took a deep breath, weighing my options. I could explode, let him have it, or… I could take a different approach. One that would really make him think.
The relief on his face was instant, almost enough to make me laugh. He had no idea what I was planning. As I placed the schedule on the fridge, I knew exactly how I was going to teach Jake a lesson he’d never forget.
The next morning, as I reread his ridiculous list, I couldn’t help but smirk. He wanted structure? Fine. But he was about to get more structure than he ever bargained for.
If Jake wanted me to follow a meticulous schedule, then it was only fair he had his own plan. But unlike his thoughtless list, mine came with a price tag. A hefty one.
I started with his gym obsession. If I had to go every morning, I’d need a personal trainer. After all, Jake wanted perfection, and perfection required professional guidance.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I wrote with a chuckle.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I typed, imagining his reaction. And since I was apparently now a chef, I added a cooking class to the list—because if he wanted Michelin-star meals, I’d need training.
But the pièce de résistance? That was yet to come.
“$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
By now, I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. But I wasn’t done.
“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
When I finished, I sat back and admired my masterpiece. It wasn’t just a rebuttal; it was a reality check. A lesson Jake desperately needed.
“Hey, babe,” he said, spotting the paper. “What’s this?”
I kept my face neutral. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I replied sweetly. “to help you become the best husband ever.”
“Wait… what is all this?” he muttered, disbelief written all over his face. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, waiting for the realization to sink in.
“$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!” he stammered, looking at me in shock.
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”
“I… I didn’t mean…” he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”
I didn’t say anything, letting the silence do the work. The look on his face said it all—he finally understood.
I nodded, watching him closely. “Yes, you have. Honestly, have you looked at Steve’s life? What makes you think he has the life experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”
The words hit him like a ton of bricks. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.
I smiled. “Yes, but we’ll recover. Now, let’s tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”
We tore up the list together, laughing at the absurdity of it all. For the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same page. Marriage isn’t about one person being “better” or trying to “fix” the other. It’s about partnership, about being stronger together.
And as we sat on the couch that evening, I realized that sometimes, a little humor is all it takes to bring things back into perspective.
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.
