My Husband Created a New Schedule for Me to ‘Become a Better Wife’ — I Taught Him a Good Lesson in Response

Jake, my husband, bewildered me one day with a proposal to “enhance my wifely qualities.” Rather than erupting, I chose to remain composed and play along. Little did Jake realize, he was about to receive an unforgettable lesson that would force him to reconsider his newfound stance on matrimony.

Being the unruffled partner in our relationship had always been my pride. Jake, bless him, had a propensity for diving headfirst into whatever trendy philosophy or peculiar hobby caught his attention, whether it was a fleeting interest or one of those bizarre YouTube videos promising a life-altering secret formula.

Life was smooth—until Jake encountered Steve. Steve, with his brazen confidence and relentless opinions, was the type who believed his views were impervious to correction simply because he voiced them with conviction. The irony? Steve had never been in a relationship, yet here he was, dispensing unsolicited marital advice to his married colleagues, including Jake.

Jake, my sweet but naïve husband, found himself utterly captivated by Steve’s bravado. I didn’t think much of it—until Jake started making biting comments. Steve, apparently, believed that a wife’s role as the household leader was pivotal to the success of any marriage. He also proclaimed, “A wife should always present her best self to her husband, regardless of how long they’ve been married.” Each time Jake relayed these insights, I responded with an eye roll and a sardonic quip, though, truth be told, it was starting to drive me mad.

Jake was changing. Suddenly, if I let the dishes pile up because I’d been working all day, he’d shoot me a sideways glance. If I ordered takeout instead of cooking dinner, I’d get a disapproving frown. Then came The List.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Jake returned home with a sheet of paper. I was seated at the kitchen table when he unfolded it and handed it to me. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, with an uncharacteristic air of superiority. “Lisa, you’re a wonderful wife. But there’s room for improvement.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He proceeded, undeterred by the obvious danger. “You know, Steve says if you stepped up a little, our marriage could be even better.”

I stared at the paper. At the top, in bold, were the words: Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife. Jake had orchestrated my entire week, using Steve’s (a single man, remember) recommendations on how I could “improve” as a wife. The schedule was ludicrous.

Every morning at five, I was to prepare a lavish breakfast for Jake. Afterward, I’d head to the gym to “stay fit,” followed by an array of household chores—dusting, folding, ironing—before heading off to work. In the evening, when Jake and his friends dropped by, I was to cook a homemade dinner and serve gourmet snacks.

The list was so sexist and antiquated, I was momentarily speechless. My incredulity only deepened as Jake continued, oblivious to my growing irritation. “This is going to be great for both of us,” he enthused. “Steve says that if we keep things organized—”

“What exactly would I gain from this?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously low.

Jake hesitated, caught off guard by the interruption, but quickly regained his footing. “Well, from having structure, a sense of direction, you know.”

I was tempted to ask him if he had a death wish and throw the paper in his face. But instead, I smiled. An unusual choice, even for me.

“Jake, you’re absolutely right,” I said softly. “This schedule is a godsend. I’ll start tomorrow.”

The relief on his face was palpable as I stood up and pinned the list to the refrigerator. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.

The next day, as I reviewed the absurd schedule, I couldn’t help but smirk. Jake was about to discover just how far “organization” could take us. I grabbed my laptop, opened a new document, and titled it, Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.

Since he wanted the perfect wife, why shouldn’t he aim for the perfect husband? But perfection doesn’t come cheap.

I started by listing his own suggestions. First up: the gym membership he was so fond of. A personal trainer would set him back $1,200. I nearly laughed aloud as I typed.

Next, the groceries. Jake’s appetite for organic, non-GMO, free-range food wasn’t exactly budget-friendly. “$700 a month for groceries,” I wrote. And he’d probably need a cooking class or two, given the gourmet meals he expected. Those weren’t cheap either.