I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.
I’ve always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.
But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.
He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake should’ve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steve’s confidence.
I didn’t think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say. Or “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I’d roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.
And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.
He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.
“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 eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”
He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and he’d written “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.
This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.
I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”
After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.
The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.
“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 interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if he’d developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.
The next day, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.
I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.
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I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.
Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasn’t happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didn’t come cheap.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. He’d probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasn’t free.
I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jake’s face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.
See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then he’d have to compensate for the loss of my income.
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.”
My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.
And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, they’d need a dedicated space that wouldn’t intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.
“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasn’t just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.
I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”
I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was.
“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 leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.
“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?”
He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.
The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.
“I… 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.”
Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Jake’s face softened, his shoulders slumping as he let out a deep sigh.
“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 look on his face as my words hit home was priceless.
“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 recover. Now, let’s tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”
He smiled weakly, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah… let’s do that.”
We ripped up the list together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.
Maybe this was what we needed, a reminder that marriage isn’t about one person being “better” than the other. It’s about being better together.
I Created a Tinder Profile for My Lonely Mother, but Regretted It When I Saw Who Was Messaging Her — Story of the Day
My mom gave up everything to raise me. After my dad bailed, she was always there for me, the only one. All I wanted was to do something nice for her. So, I figured it wasn’t too late for her to find love on a dating app. But Lord, what I definitely DIDN’T EXPECT was finding out who she was going on a date with!
My name is Lucy, and I’m 23 years old. Like I usually do on weekends, I went to visit my mother, Phoebe, one weekend.
I am her only daughter, and she has no one else. My father left the family when I was very young, and since then, my mother has always been alone.
I was her main priority, and with all the care she gave me, she never had time for her personal life. My mother is 56, and finding a partner at her age is not easy, but I stayed optimistic about helping her.
We were at her house, and I was standing there with my phone, taking pictures of her and showing her how to pose.
The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow in the living room. The room was cozy, filled with family photos and mementos of my childhood.
“Mom, stand by the window,” I instructed, trying to capture the best light. “No, not like that, more gracefully, like a cat.”
“A cat? Lucy, at my age?” Mom replied shyly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
“It’s never too late to feel like a woman. Listen to what I say. And don’t look at the camera. Pretend you’re gazing mysteriously out the window…”
Phoebe hesitated but complied, standing by the window with a slight tilt to her head, looking out with a soft, pensive expression.
“Oh… Hold still… Got it!” I exclaimed, snapping the picture. I showed it to her with a big smile. “See? You look amazing, Mom!”
She looked at the photo, and a small smile crept onto her face. “You think so?”
“Absolutely! This is perfect for your Tinder profile,” I said, editing the photo a bit before uploading it.
“Sweetheart, are you sure this is a good idea? I’m not young anymore; who would want me there…” she trailed off, doubt evident in her voice.
“Mom! Don’t say that about yourself. Life doesn’t end at fifty! Love knows no age!” I said firmly, looking into her eyes to emphasize my words. “You deserve to find happiness too.”
Together, we worked on adding a description for her profile. We laughed as we brainstormed the right words to describe her warm heart, love for gardening, and passion for cooking.
“How about this: ‘Loving mother and avid gardener looking for someone to share laughs and good meals with. Believes love is timeless and life is full of surprises.’ What do you think?” I asked.
Phoebe chuckled softly. “It sounds lovely, Lucy. Thank you for doing this for me.”
“Of course, Mom. You deserve to find someone special,” I said, giving her a hug. “Now, let me show you how to use the app.”
After a quick tutorial on swiping left and right, I felt confident that she was ready to dive into the world of online dating.
We shared one last laugh over the absurdity of it all before I said goodbye and headed back home, feeling hopeful about what the future might hold for her.
The next day, I arrived at the office, and as usual, my workday began with coffee and gossip with my office friend, Natalie.
The office kitchen buzzed with early morning chatter as we grabbed our coffees and settled at a table in the corner. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating a comforting start to the day.
Natalie immediately leaned in, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “You won’t believe this, Lucy. Michael, our boss, has been looking at his phone all day and smiling like a kid.”
I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Michael? Smiling? What’s going on with him?”
Natalie grinned, her excitement palpable. “A woman. I’m sure he has someone. I mean, it’s the only explanation. Michael is always so focused on work and never distracted. But today, he’s been glued to his phone, smiling like a teenager in love.”
The thought of Michael, our workaholic boss, being smitten was amusing. We had never seen him with a woman, let alone acting like this.
“We have to find out who it is!” I declared, my curiosity piqued.
At that moment, we devised a plan. Natalie approached Michael, carrying a stack of documents. “Michael, could you take a look? I can’t seem to find last week’s report,” she said, feigning confusion.
Michael sighed, setting his phone aside reluctantly. “Natalie, you’ve worked here for years. Let me see,” he replied, taking the documents from her.
While Michael was distracted by Natalie, I quietly took his phone from the desk. My heart raced as I opened it, not knowing what to expect. But I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
It was my mother! He was messaging my mom! Their conversation had been going on since last night. My mind raced as I scrolled through the messages.
They had already arranged a date for that evening; Mom had invited him to dinner at her place. Panic set in. “No, no, this can’t be! Not this,” I thought frantically. How could this be real?
Why him, Mom? I couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be to work with my boss as my future stepfather. No! I couldn’t let it happen. I had to stop it.
When Natalie and I reconvened, she immediately began asking, “So, who is it? Do you know her?”
I forced a smile and lied, “Oh, just some girl. Nothing special.” Inside, I was panicking. I needed to come up with a plan to prevent Michael from going on that date. If he went, it would ruin everything. My mind raced with possible solutions.
The workday was coming to an end, and I saw Michael hurrying to finish his work. It was so unusual because Michael was always the last to leave.
But I knew where he was rushing to, and it was crucial to ensure he didn’t make it. Seeing Michael packing up, I approached him with my laptop.
“Michael, do you have a minute?” I asked, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart.
“I’m in a bit of a hurry… But sure, what do you need?” he replied, glancing at the clock.
“I can’t get this report right. Could you please check if everything is correct?” I handed him my laptop, hoping he wouldn’t notice the deliberate errors I had planted.
Michael sighed and took the laptop from me. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, opening the file and starting to review the report.
As he went through the report, pointing out mistakes and explaining corrections, I couldn’t help but notice his project on his computer screen.
It was a project he had been diligently working on all day to complete before his date. My heart pounded as I realized he would finish in no time.
“Lucy, I didn’t expect these kinds of mistakes from you; you usually do great work. What’s going on?” he asked, looking up at me with concern.
“Sorry, I’m not feeling well,” I mumbled, trying to hide my anxiety.
Michael finished reviewing the report much faster than I had anticipated. “It’s done. Now, please don’t distract me; I need to finish a few things,” he said, quickly pushing my laptop aside and reopening his project file.
Panic surged through me. Fearful he would finish in time, I did something horrible. Next to Michael’s laptop was a cup of coffee. I knocked it over, pretending it was an accident, and it spilled all over his laptop.
“No! Lucy, what have you done!?” Michael shouted, grabbing the laptop and trying to save it. But it was too late. The laptop wouldn’t start.
“Oh, I’m so sorry…” I stammered, guilt washing over me.
Michael looked at the laptop in disappointment, then checked the time on his phone and sighed sadly. He typed something on his phone and slowly took off his coat, sitting back at his desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay… I’ll have to redo the project on another computer. Don’t worry about it,” he said, clearly frustrated.
I felt terrible. Until I saw the result of my actions, I hadn’t realized what I had done. But it was done, and nothing could change it. Mom probably wouldn’t be too upset; she would find a better match. That’s what I told myself to feel better.
Returning to my desk, I felt even worse. I was a terrible daughter, colleague, and person. I called my mom and heard her quiet, sad voice.
“Maybe this isn’t for me, sweetheart. I think I’ll stop using the app; it’s too hard for me,” she said softly.
“Mom, don’t worry, I’ll come over tonight,” I replied, my heart breaking.
I knew I had to fix things. So I went to Michael’s office once more. “Michael, do you have a minute?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
“There is one more thing I want to ask you…” I needed to make things right.
That evening, I knocked on my mom’s door. My heart raced as I waited, knowing I had to come clean. The door opened, and there stood my mother, looking shocked as she saw me standing with Michael.
“Lucy? What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise.
Michael looked equally bewildered. “Why did you bring me here, Lucy?” he asked. He had been kind enough to give me a ride after work, not knowing I had a bigger plan in mind.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Mom, Michael, I need to confess something. I tried to sabotage your date,” I blurted out, feeling a mix of guilt and relief.
Phoebe’s eyes widened in confusion. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”
Michael frowned, looking between me and my mom. “Lucy, what do you mean?”
I felt the weight of my actions pressing down on me. “Phoebe is my mom. When I found out you were going on a date, I panicked and only thought about myself. I worried about how it would affect me and focused only on my feelings. In my selfishness, I forgot how this would impact you,” I admitted, my voice trembling.
Phoebe’s expression softened as she stepped closer. “Lucy, why would you do that? You know I haven’t dated in so long.”
“I know, Mom. And that’s why I feel so terrible,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “I was scared and selfish. I didn’t think about how happy this could make you. I was only thinking about myself and how awkward it would be to have my boss as my stepfather.”
Michael looked thoughtful, his initial shock giving way to understanding. “Lucy, I had no idea Phoebe was your mother. But I appreciate your honesty. It takes courage to admit you were wrong.”
I nodded, wiping away a tear. “I’m really sorry. Now, I realize that you two might be perfect for each other. Maybe fate brought you together because you’ve both had such a hard time finding someone.”
Phoebe smiled gently. “Sweetheart, I understand why you felt that way. But you need to know that my happiness means the world to me, and if Michael can bring that happiness, then we should give it a chance.”
Michael nodded in agreement. “Lucy, your mom is a wonderful woman. I would be honored to get to know her better.”
I felt a sense of relief wash over me. “Now that you know the truth, I just want to say one thing. No matter what happens, if you’re happy, then I’m happier. I hope I can fix my mistake.”
Phoebe gave me a warm hug. “You already have, sweetheart. Thank you for being honest.”
She then turned to Michael and invited him inside. “Come on in, Michael. Let’s have that dinner.”
Michael smiled and stepped inside. “Thank you, Phoebe.”
My mom looked at me and extended the invitation. “Would you like to join us, Lucy?”
I shook my head with a smile. “No, Mom. This evening should be yours. Enjoy it.”
As the door closed behind them, I felt a surge of joy. I got into my car and drove home, feeling lighter and happier. After all, I was right—love knows no age.
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