In our marriage, I have always considered myself the calm one, the one who didn’t get swept away by trends or fleeting advice. Jake, on the other hand, had a tendency to dive headfirst into the next big thing, whether it was a quirky gadget, a bizarre new diet, or some self-help guru’s YouTube series.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.
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It didn’t take long for things to spiral. Jake began dropping little comments here and there. “Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say smugly. Or, “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”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.
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One evening, Jake walked into the kitchen, a piece of paper in hand. He placed it on the table, smoothed it out, and gestured for me to sit down. I obliged, more curious than annoyed at this point.”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?
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“Oh really?” I managed to say, keeping my tone even. Jake, oblivious to the storm brewing, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”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.
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The list included everything from waking up at 5 a.m. daily to cook a gourmet breakfast, to hitting the gym every morning to “stay in shape.”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?
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“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, keeping my voice calm but firm. Jake blinked, startled but quick to recover.”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.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said with a sweet smile. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”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.
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With a mischievous grin, I opened my laptop and started typing. At the top of the page, I wrote, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.”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.
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Next, I tackled his culinary expectations. Gourmet meals every day? Sure, but not on our current grocery budget. Organic produce, artisanal ingredients, and all the extras he seemed to think were standard didn’t come cheap.”$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.
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To follow Jake’s plan, I’d have to quit my job. There was no way I could balance his expectations with my career. So, I factored in my lost salary. If Jake wanted me to dedicate my life to being the perfect wife, he’d have to foot the bill.”$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.
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Finally, I included a suggestion for expanding the house. Jake’s friends needed their own space—a man cave—so they wouldn’t disrupt my “perfectly structured” day. The cost of this addition? Oh, just a casual fortune.”$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.
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That evening, I placed the list on the kitchen counter and waited. When Jake walked through the door, he greeted me cheerfully.”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.”
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Jake laughed, assuming it was a playful joke. But as he read through the list, his expression shifted. The grin faded. His eyes widened as he reached the costs I had outlined.”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.
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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, don’t you think?” I said, watching him flip through the pages. His face turned pale.”$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?”
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For a moment, Jake stood frozen, staring at the list. Then, the weight of his own demands hit him. All at once, his smug demeanor crumbled.”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.
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Jake’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see it’s… it’s toxic. Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”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.
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Jake managed a weak smile, the tension finally easing. “Yeah… let’s do that.”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.
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