Off The Record
To “Become A Better Wife,” My Husband Made Me A New Schedule. I Taught Him A Good Lesson In Response
My husband, Jake, surprised me by giving me a timetable to follow so that I could “become a better wife.” But I went along with it rather than losing my cool. Jake had no idea that I was going to give him a lesson that would cause him to reconsider his recently adopted marital philosophy.
I’ve always taken great satisfaction in being the sensible one in our union. Jake, may God bless him, was prone to becoming involved in new hobbies or falling for a strange YouTube video that promised to significantly improve his life in just three easy steps.
However, before Jake met Steve, we were strong. Steve was the kind of guy who, in his loud and opinionated way, thought he was right and would shout over you if you tried to correct him.
Apart from being a perennial single (who would have thought?), he was also a kind relationship advisor to all of his married coworkers, including Jake. Jake ought to have known better, but my sweetie was completely enamored with Steve’s self-assurance.
It went unnoticed until Jake began to make some nasty remarks.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he used to say. Or, “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
It was starting to grate on my nerves, though, so I would roll my eyes and respond with something caustic. Jake was evolving. If I bought takeout instead of making dinner, he would raise an eyebrow and sigh at me for letting the laundry pile up because, heaven forbid, I worked a full-time job.
Then it took place. He brought The List home with him one evening.
He pulled out a piece of paper, pushed it across to me, and sat me down at the kitchen table.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”
My brows furrowed. “Oh really?”
He nodded, not realizing he was about to enter a dangerous area. “Yes. Steve assisted me in realizing that if you only put in a little more effort, our marriage may be much better.”
I fixed my gaze on the paper before me. It was a timetable. and he had bolded and written at the top, “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife”.
This man had actually taken the time to sit down and plotted out my entire week according to what Steve, a single man with no dating experience, felt I ought to do in order to “improve” as a wife.
Every day at five in the morning, I was meant to get up and make Jake a fancy breakfast. I would then spend an hour at the gym to “stay in shape.”
Following that? A fun list of tasks to complete: laundry, ironing, and cleaning. That was everything before I departed for my job. Every night I was expected to make a homemade dinner and serve gourmet snacks to Jake and his buddies when they came over to hang out.
I wasn’t even sure where to begin with how offensive and sexist the entire thing was. I found myself gazing at him, questioning whether my spouse had gone insane.
“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.
“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”
“I could benefit from what?” I cut in, sounding dangerously composed. Jake blinked, startled by the interruption, but he straightened out fast.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to ask him if he had become a death wisher and toss that paper in his face. Rather, I did something that even startled me: I grinned.
“You’re right, Jake,” I remarked kindly. “You created me this timetable, and I’m really grateful. I’ll get going tomorrow.”
His face showed quick relief. I got up and put the list on the fridge, almost feeling sorry for him. Nearly. He was clueless about what was ahead.
I couldn’t help but smile the following day as I looked over the absurd schedule once more. If Jake believed he could present me with a list of “improvements,” he was going to discover the true extent of structure our existence could support.
Taken out of the bag, I started a new document on my laptop called “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” Did he wish for the ideal wife? Alright. But excellence came at a price.
I started by enumerating everything he had recommended, starting with the gym membership he was so excited about. It really was hilarious.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I giggled a little as I typed.
The food arrived next. Jake was not going to be able to afford to eat like a king on our existing shopping budget. Everything organic, non-GMO, and free-range? That was not cheap material.
“My monthly grocery budget is $700,” I wrote. He would most likely have to help out with a cooking lesson as well. Pricey, maybe, but then, perfection didn’t come for cheap.
I laughed to myself as I sat back in my chair, picturing Jake’s reaction when he saw this. I wasn’t done, though. The pièce de résistance, oh no, was yet to come.
You see, I couldn’t possibly balance all of these demands and keep my job at the same time. Jake would have to make up the difference in my pay if he wanted me to devote all of my time to his ridiculous schedule.
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 Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
At this point, laughing pained my stomach.
I also added a suggestion that he should expand the house just to be safe. Ultimately, if he planned to host his friends on a regular basis, they would want a designated area that wouldn’t interfere with my just arranged, incredibly regimented existence.
“$50,000 to build a separate’man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
The list was a work of art by the time I finished. Undoubtedly a logistical and expensive headache, but nevertheless a masterwork. It was a wake-up call as much as a counterattack.
I completed printing it, placed it neatly on the kitchen counter, and bided my time until Jake returned home. He was feeling quite well when he finally came through the door that evening.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”
I watched him pick it up, trying not to chuckle, but maintaining a neutral expression on my face. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said affectionately, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
Jake laughed, assuming that I was joining in on his little game. But the smile faded as he skimmed the first few sentences. He was slowly realizing that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was, and I could see the wheels spinning in his head.
“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?”
I crossed my arms and leaned on the kitchen island.
“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?”
His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”
Perplexed, he gazed at the article.
The magnitude and absurdity of his own demands suddenly struck him. His arrogance vanished, to be replaced with the dawning understanding that he had made a grave mistake.
“I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didn’t 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 isn’t about lists or routines. It’s about respect. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”
Thick and uneasy silence hovered in the air. With a heavy sigh, Jake’s shoulders slumped and his expression softened.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “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 carefully. “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 expression on his face when my words sank in was invaluable.
“You’re 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, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but we’ll bounce back. Let’s now tear up that paper and return to equality.”
With a feeble smile, the stress slightly eased. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
I felt like we were back on the same team for the first time in weeks as we tore through the list together.
Perhaps this served as a reminder that being in a marriage doesn’t include one partner being “better” than the other. It is about working well as a team.
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