Marriage is a delicate dance—a dance that thrives on balance, trust, and a healthy dose of humor.
But every now and then one steps on the other’s toes and the rhythm is a bit unconventional. In my case, it wasn’t just a mistake; it was a complete collision, courtesy of my husband Jake and his newfound guru Steve.
What ensued was a whirlwind of absurd expectations, a “perfect wife” checklist, and a lesson in how far I would go to defend my dignity—and our marriage. Let me walk you through the chaos.
I have always prided myself on being the constant in our marriage. Jake, bless him, was easily drawn into new obsessions, whether it was a hobby or some YouTube video promising life-changing results in three easy steps.
We were fine until Jake met Steve.
Steve was the type of person who mistook a loud opinion for right and shot down anyone who tried to correct him.
Every single (big shocker), Steve had a habit of doling out unsolicited relationship advice to his married co-workers, including Jake. Jake, who usually had better sense, somehow fell under Steve’s spell. Steve’s confidence was clearly irresistible.
I brushed it off at first. But then Jake started parroting Steve’s opinions.
“Steve says relationships thrive when the wife runs the household,” Jake informed me one day. Another time: “Steve thinks women should always look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I rolled my eyes and would have fired a sarcastic retort, but it was getting on my nerves. Jake was changing. He would sigh dramatically if I let the laundry pile up because God forbid, I also had a full-time job. And I’m not even interested in his reaction when I bring home food instead of cooking.
The real kicker, however, came one evening when Jake walked in with The List.
He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it over to me.
“I was thinking,” he began in a tone that was both condescending and completely out of character. “You’re a wonderful wife, Lisa, but there’s room for improvement.
My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
He nodded, blissfully unaware of the minefield he had stepped into. “Yeah. Steve made me realize that our marriage could be even better if you made it a little stronger.”
I looked down at the paper and fought the urge to laugh in disbelief. At the top, it said in bold: ‘Lisa’s weekly routine to become a better wife’.
Jake, with Steve’s “expertise”, planned my entire week. According to this masterpiece, I was to get up at 5 a.m. every day to make him a gourmet breakfast and then head to the gym to “keep in shape”. After that, I had a full list of chores to do – cleaning, ironing, ng, and laundry – all before I got to work. Evenings were to be spent cooking from scratch and whipping up snacks for Jake and his friends during their nightly gatherings at our house.
I stared at him, completely confused. Was he serious?
“It’ll be great for you—and for us,” he added, his enthusiasm completely misplaced. “Steve says structure is key and I think you’ll really benefit from having a schedule.
The audacity. I considered throwing the list back in his face but smiled sweetly instead.
“You know what, Jake? You are right This schedule is a great idea. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief that washed over him was almost endearing. Almost. As I taped the list to the fridge, I silently vowed that she had no idea what was coming.
The next morning I read the ridiculous schedule again and decided to take things up a notch. If Jake was going to make me the “perfect wife,” he would have to meet me halfway—or more accurately, 10 miles down the path of absurdity.
I opened my notebook and made my own list: ‘Jake’s plan to be the best husband ever.’ If I was to live up to his expectations, he would have to make some changes too.
I started by listing all the costs associated with his requirements.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer,” I wrote.
“$700 a month for organic, non-GMO food.”
And since gourmet cooking wasn’t exactly in my wheelhouse: “$1,500 for culinary classes.”
Next, I dealt with the time commitment. If I was to fully commit to this routine, there was no way I was going to keep my job. So I added, “$75,000 a year to replace Lisa’s salary because she will now be a full-time personal assistant, cook, and maid.”
Oh, and let’s not forget his friends. They would need their own space to hang out.
“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake’s friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s structured schedule.”
When I was done, the list was a financial nightmare, but it was perfect. I printed it out and left it on the kitchen counter.
When Jake got home that evening, he immediately noticed the paper.
“What is it?” he asked, picking it up.
“It’s just a little list I made for you,” I said with a smile. “To help you become the best husband ever.
At first, he laughed, assuming it was a joke. But as he read on, his smile faded.
“$75,000? $1,200 for a personal trainer? Lisa, what is it?”
“Well, you wanted me to stick to your plan, didn’t you? I figured I’d need some resources—and time—to do it properly.”
He stared at the paper and the reality of his own absurdity hit him like a ton of bricks.
“I… I didn’t mean for it to be this way,” he stammered. “Steve it sounded so simple, but now… Oh, Lisa, I was an idiot, wasn’t I?
“Yeah,” I replied, crossing my arms. “Jake, marriage is not about turning your husband into a self-improvement project. It’s about respect. And if you ever try something like that again, it’s going to cost you a lot more than it’s on paper.”
Jake sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. You’ree right. Steve has no idea what he’s talking about and I let him get in my head. I’ll never do that again.”
“Okay,” I said. “Now let’s shred that list and get back to being equals.”
Together we tore through both rosters and felt like a team again for the first time in weeks.
Marriage is not about perfection; it’s about partnership. And sometimes it takes a little chaos to remind you.
Jake’s misguided attempt to improve our marriage turned out to be a blessing in disguise. By confronting his actions with humor and practicality, we were able to have an honest conversation about respect and partnership.
It wasn’t easy to keep calm when faced with that ridiculous list, but finding a way to show him the absurdity of his expectations without outright anger helped us reach a resolution. It reminded me that sometimes a little creativity goes a long way when dealing with conflict.
As we tore through the lists together, I could see the humility in Jake’s eyes. It wasn’t just an apology—it was a recognition of the value of equality in our relationship. He realized that marriage is not about assigning roles or keeping score; it’s about supporting each other and appreciating what everyone brings to the table. This experience, while frustrating, ultimately strengthened our bond and served as a lesson in the dangers of letting outside influences dictate how we treat each other.
Jake’s revelation also reinforced the importance of open communication and mutual respect. We are far from perfect, but that is what makes our relationship real. In the end, we walked away from the ordeal with a renewed sense of teamwork and a shared laugh at the absurdity of it all. It’s moments like these that remind me why we chose each other—and why, despite our mistakes, we always find our way back to being partners in every sense of the word.