Dan and I had just tied the knot. Everything I’d dreamed of – the wedding was perfect — small, intimate. And for a while, it felt like a fairy tale. Dan was kind and funny, and I truly believed we were on the same page about how we wanted to live our lives together. That is, until Karen, his mother, handed me a gift after the ceremony.

I was standing in our living room, still basking in that post-wedding glow, when Karen approached me with her “special” present.

“This is for you, Lucia. A little something to help you as you step into your new role.” She handed me an ornate box with a wide smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

When I unfolded the box, my jaw dropped. At the top, in bold, it read: “How to Be a Good Wife for My Son.”

At first, I laughed, thinking it was some joke. Maybe Karen was poking fun at those old-fashioned stereotypes about marriage.

But my smile faded when I kept reading. It was a list — an actual list of rules I was expected to follow as Dan’s wife.

Looking over at Dan, I hoped he’d be just as baffled as I was, but he was busy opening his own gift. A check. A fat one, no less. And me? I got a rulebook.

Later that evening, Dan approached me with a sheepish grin. “You got the rules my mom gave you, didn’t you?” he asked, as if it were some casual suggestion, not a manual for a life of servitude.

“YEP… I did,” I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice but failing miserably.

Dan shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you know, that’s how it must be now. Marriage is different from dating.”

I waited for him to crack a smile, to say something that made it all a joke. But he didn’t.

“Wait… You’re serious?” I asked, staring at him as if I didn’t recognize the man I’d just married.

He shrugged. “It’s just how things are. Mom says it’s important to keep things in order, you know?”

Then Dan fell asleep, and I read through the list again, my hands trembling with shock and fury. I couldn’t believe the audacity.

Here’s a taste of the insanity I was supposed to follow:
At 6 a.m., you have to be fully dressed with makeup on, cooking a hot breakfast for Dan. Remember, no veggies, no milk, no butter; he only likes plain eggs and toast. Make sure the toast is exactly golden brown, and don’t forget to serve it on a blue plate because the green one ruins his appetite.
Do all the grocery shopping yourself. Dan hates the store, and honestly, it’s no place for a man. Always buy his favorite beer — but not too much. He should have just enough for football nights but not so much that he becomes lazy. Oh, and don’t forget to carry everything in yourself because it’s unladylike to ask for help.

After dinner, make sure the kitchen is spotless before Dan even steps out of the dining room. Men shouldn’t have to witness any mess; they must leave the table and enter a pristine space. And remember, always stack the plates according to size, and wipe the counters twice, because Dan’s sensitive to crumbs.

Always dress conservatively when Dan’s friends come over. We don’t want them thinking you’re too “modern” or that you’re not the “right kind of wife.” A good wife never wears anything above the knee, and the neckline should always be high. Anything else, and you’ll embarrass Dan in front of his buddies.”

Make sure Dan never has to do his laundry. A good wife always has fresh, ironed clothes ready, and socks without a single wrinkle. Also, fold them in threes, not twos, because that’s how Dan likes it. He should never have to pick out mismatched socks or deal with a wrinkled shirt. It reflects poorly on you if he does.

By the time I finished reading, my blood was boiling. This wasn’t just some outdated advice; this was a full-blown expectation that I was supposed to cater to Dan’s every whim like I had no other purpose.

And the worst part? Dan was fine with it. He hadn’t even flinched when I mentioned the rules.

I felt trapped, but I wasn’t about to roll over and let them get away with this. If they wanted to play this game, I’d play along but on my terms.

The morning after I read Karen’s list, I woke up at 6 a.m. sharp, just as instructed. I rolled out of bed, put on a full face of makeup, and slipped into a nice dress.I stared at myself in the mirror, laughing quietly at how ridiculous this all was. But if Karen wanted me to play this role, I’d play it, but with a twist.

I made my way downstairs and prepared breakfast: plain toast and eggs. But I didn’t stop there. I took the tiniest slice of toast and an unseasoned boiled egg and plopped them onto Dan’s enormous blue plate. The plate was so big it made the meager meal look like a joke.

I carefully placed it on the table, smiling sweetly like a dutiful wife as Dan walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.