“Menu Madness: My Husband’s Daily Meal Demands Are Driving Me Crazy”

My Husband Made a Menu and Demands That I Cook Him Meals from It Every Day

Sarah believed her marriage was strong until one evening when she came home to find a fancy menu on the refrigerator, requiring her to prepare elaborate meals following long days at the office. Deep fissures in their relationship were exposed by the subsequent confrontation, which led to a furious dispute that left them both stunned.

I’ve always taken great satisfaction in my work ethic. As a productive project manager for a thriving software company, I frequently worked past my bedtime and took tasks home on the weekends. I kept the household operating efficiently in spite of my hectic job. I balanced grocery, housework, and occasionally dining out with friends.

My spouse, Tom, was employed as a steady accountant. He got weekends off, worked normal hours, and seldom had to stay late. Nevertheless, he frequently bemoaned his weariness and worry. I liked Tom and was devoted to our marriage, so I didn’t mind taking on a little bit extra.

However, things went too far that day. After yet another exhausting day at work, I came home with a sore back from carrying so much responsibility.

I saw something strange on the refrigerator as I set my luggage down by the door. A magnet held a nicely typed menu to it, and a handwritten note with Tom’s trademark scribble on it said, “Cook it today.”

As I took a quick look at the menu, my heart rate increased. It featured a list of gourmet dishes, such as beef Wellington, coq au vin, and lobster tartare, one more elaborate than the other. I had eyes I couldn’t believe. Tom was counting on me to come home and cook these fancy meals even though I put in more hours at work than him.

My first fury subsided into a stern resolve. I texted Tom after picking up my phone.

“Why is this menu posted on the refrigerator? Do you really think I’m going to cook everything?

Tom responded right away. Yes, I agreed that it would be good to add some diversity and structure to our meals. You’re a really talented chef, so I think you’ll be OK. Tell me how it turns out.

I was astounded by his casual reply. Tom would receive his gourmet meals, but not in the manner he had anticipated.

In an attempt to relax, I inhaled deeply. This was excessive. When he got home, I resolved to confront him.

Tom entered an hour later and began to whistle. “Hey, Sarah,” he exclaimed with joy.

“Hey,” I said in a cold tone of voice. “We need to talk.”

He gave me a perplexed expression. “About what?”

I gestured toward the refrigerator. “About this menu.”

Tom looked at it, then back at me, his expression unchanged, bewildered. “What about it?”

“You expect me to cook all these meals after working all day?” My voice rising, I asked. “I barely have time to breathe, Tom.”

He gave a shrug. “I was just thinking that some variation would be wonderful. You always have the best food, so I figured you’d like it.”

“Enjoy it?” Incredulous, I repeated. “I barely have time to eat, let alone cook gourmet meals.”

Tom scowled. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“Well, it is,” I yelled. “I’m worn out, Tom. Help, not more work, is what I need.”

He appeared shocked. “Sarah, I apologize. I was unaware of that.

I gave a headshake. “No, you didn’t. And there is the issue.

Tom’s scowl got bigger. “So I’m to blame for your overwork now? Sarah, all I wanted was better food. Is that really so incorrect?

I could feel my annoyance building up. “It’s not unreasonable to want to eat better, but expecting me to do everything is! Tom, I’m not a machine.”

“I never said you were,” he answered, raising his voice in response. “Yet you behave as though I don’t do anything around here. You know that I work too.”

Indeed, you work regular hours and unwind at home. I still take care of the house, work late, and bring tasks home. Is that equitable?

Tom raised his hands in annoyance. “So, Sarah, what are you asking me to do? Give up my work? Continue cooking at home all day?”

I gave him a fierce look. “I wish you would acknowledge my efforts and contribute more. It’s about sharing responsibility, not about giving up your work.”

“Responsibilities?” Tom sneered. “I take care of the bills, the yard, and the upkeep of the cars. You consider it insignificant?

“I’m not saying it’s nothing,” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “It’s not everything, though. You’re not privy to my everyday struggles. Preparing exquisite dishes is just another unattainable goal.”

Tom got red in the face. Alright, so perhaps I’m missing something. However, you also don’t seem to value what I do. You give the impression that I’m worthless.”

I clinched my hands, attempting to maintain my composure. “Tom, I’m requesting your cooperation. not to make you feel unproductive. Why is it so difficult for you to comprehend that?”

He snapped back, “Maybe because you’re always on edge.” “It’s like nothing I do is good enough for you.”

“Because you’re not listening!” I yelled. “All you see is your adorable little menu, and I’m drowning here.” The important thing is to feel supported, not the food.”

Tom got up, making a loud scraping noise as his chair hit the floor. “I’ve had enough of this exchange. I must get some fresh air.”

We stood for a minute, but I could see that this was not the end of the conversation. Tom needed a lot of education on how to maintain the orderliness of our lives. And without going crazy in the process, I had to figure out how to explain myself to him.

This was only the start.

I carried out my regular activities over the next few days, but I had a different strategy in mind. I called around and had everything set up just right. Tom arrived home on Friday morning to the smells of a nicely cooked beef Wellington.

“Wow, this looks amazing!” Tom took a seat at the table and exclaimed.

With a charming grin, I concealed my genuine feelings. “I’m happy you enjoy it. I figured I’d begin with your most beloved.”

After taking a bite, Tom sighed happily. “This is really great. You know, you never would have realized you had this gift if I hadn’t made you do it. To be honest though, I think the beef could have been a little more tender.”

Just then, a man wearing a chef’s suit came out of the kitchen. In a courteous yet strong tone, he questioned, “Is there something wrong with the beef, sir?”

With the fork halfway to Tom’s mouth, it froze. “Who are you?” was his stutter.

I reclined, taking in the sight. “My name is Martin, the chef. He cooked this dinner for me. And I gave him the cash you were setting up for your new vehicle.”

Tom’s face flushed red in various places, making it difficult for him to speak. “You…you did what?”

“Now that I oversee the household and put in long hours at work, you expect me to provide fine dining every day? I felt that you would benefit from a lesson on the preparation of a meal such as this. Even as a master chef, Chef Martin is not able to consistently produce flawless meat every time. I think you’ll respect what I do a little bit more now.

With a smile, Chef Martin nodded. “Sir, it’s not simple. It takes a lot of talent and time to prepare delicious foods.”

Tom reclined, his conceit faltering. “Sarah, I apologize. I was being unfair, and I was unaware of it. I didn’t realize how much labor these meals would require of you, but I still thought they would be pleasant.”

My face wrinkled a little. “I’m happy you comprehend. The next time, let’s collaborate to create a food plan that works for both of us.”

After their supper, they had a renewed regard for one another. After that day, Tom never again prepared a difficult menu, and the two of them took turns preparing straightforward yet delectable meals.

Though it has been romanticized for artistic purposes, this work draws inspiration from actual individuals and events. For reasons of privacy protection and story improvement, names, characters, and details have been changed. Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.

The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any misinterpretation and make no claims on the veracity of the events or character portrayals. The thoughts represented in this story are those of the characters and do not necessarily represent the viewpoints of the author or publisher. The story is offered “as is.”