Wedding vows for him: examples to say to your groom or husband

[Name], you are the calmest person I know, and you made me calmer.

I promise to notice the small things you never mention. I promise to sit beside you in silence when that is what you need.

You never asked me to be louder or quieter. You just made room. I will keep making room for you.

57 words, about 25 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I knew it was serious when you stayed up with the sick dog and did not say I told you so.

I promise to load the dishwasher your way, even though my way is clearly better. I promise to pretend I do not hear you singing in the shower. I promise to say yes to the second dog, eventually.

You make a grocery run feel like a date. I would like about fifty more years of them.

78 words, about 35 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], for a long time, I knew you through a screen. I knew your laugh before I knew your kitchen.

I remember the first time you opened the door and you were taller than I expected and exactly who I hoped for. I remember driving home and already counting the days.

Today the counting stops. I promise to be where you are. I promise to say goodnight in person. From now on, the only distance between us is the length of the couch.

83 words, about 40 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I did not only fall in love with you. I watched you with [Child] and fell a little further every week.

You taught [Child] to ride a bike without letting go too soon. You showed up to every recital, in the back row, ready to clap first.

I promise to be on your team and theirs, and to be patient when the house is loud. You will not have to choose between us, because there is only one family here. I am proud to be in it with you.

90 words, about 40 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I take you to be my husband. I will have and hold you from this day forward, in good times and in hard ones, in sickness and in health.

I will love you, honor you and stand beside you. I will choose you on the easy mornings and the long nights.

The old words come first because they have carried people for a long time. This one is mine: you taught me to change a tire, read a map and ask for help, and I want to spend my life repaying that.

93 words, about 45 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], you have never once let me read the map, and I have never once minded.

On our first road trip you got us lost and said it was a shortcut. We found the best diner of my life. That is how I understand you now: you turn wrong turns into stories.

I promise to ride beside you through every shortcut. I promise to keep the snacks stocked. I promise to hold the map upside down only on purpose.

79 words, about 35 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], the year [Hard thing] happened, you did not say much. You made the tea, you cleared the calendar and you stayed.

I remember the kitchen table at midnight, the light over the stove, and you asking if I had eaten. You did not try to fix it. You sat down across from me and peeled an orange, one piece at a time, and handed me half.

I want to be the one who peels the orange for you.

79 words, about 35 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I know you would rather be anywhere than standing here with a microphone nearby. So I will talk for both of us.

You are kind in ways you will never mention. You fix things before I notice they are broken. You laugh at my jokes, even the bad ones, mostly with your eyes.

I promise to do the talking at parties. And I promise to always know what you mean, even when you say it in four words.

79 words, about 35 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I choose you. Today, tomorrow and on the days in between.

I promise to be honest, to be kind and to come home to you.

26 words, about 12 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I have been trying to write this for months, and every draft came out too small.

So here is the plain version. I love how you listen with your whole face. I love that you say my name when you answer the phone, as if I am the best news of your day. I love that you remember my coworkers’ names, my cousins’ birthdays and the name of my childhood cat.

You made a life feel possible for me. I do not mean the big plans. I mean the grilled cheese at eleven at night, eaten standing up at the counter while you tell me about your day. I mean the way you hand me the good pillow and never mention it. Those small things are what I want to keep doing for the rest of my life.

I promise to protect what we have built. I promise to be curious about who you are becoming. I promise to apologize first, sometimes. And when we are old and slow, I promise to choose the seat next to you.

179 words, about 85 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I believe we were brought together on purpose, and I am grateful for it each morning.

You pray over me when I am too tired to ask. You forgive quickly. You make me braver than I would be alone.

In front of God and the people we love, I promise to love you with patience and to keep our home a place of grace, and to grow beside you for as long as we are given.

77 words, about 35 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I have watched you cry at the finish of a game, and I have never loved you more.

I promise to sit through every season, even the losing ones. I promise to learn the rules, at least most of them. I promise to ask who is winning only at halftime, and only once.

And when your team finally wins it all, I will be the loudest person in the room, and I will not pretend I was not crying too.

81 words, about 35 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I did not expect to stand here a second time, and I want you to know I am not comparing. You made me laugh at the end of a bad day, at a gas station, over a bag of terrible pretzels, and I remembered that I could. You never rushed me and you never asked me to be someone younger or simpler. I promise to love who you are and who you were, to take good care of you, and to keep laughing loudly in every season we have left.

91 words, about 40 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], you are the person who shows up with a toolbox before I finish asking.

You fixed my bike, my sink and my bad week, and you never once made me feel small for needing help.

I promise to ask for help without apologizing. I promise to hand you the right wrench. I promise that when something in you needs mending, I will be the one holding the flashlight.

69 words, about 30 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)

[Name], I remember our first apartment, the one with the broken heater and the window that stuck.

We ate dinner on the floor for months because we had no table. We put a lamp on a box and called it a living room. One night you taped a drawing of a couch to the wall, wrote “someday” under it, and we laughed until the neighbors knocked.

That was the night I understood something. I was not happy in spite of how little we had. I was happy because you were in the middle of it, humming, reading the instructions for a shelf we never did build correctly.

The heater works now and the window opens. I still think of that room as the place where I started to trust the two of us.

So I promise to build a home with you wherever we land, and to keep a lamp on for you. The couch in that drawing is still the one I want, and I plan to sit on it with you, very slowly, when we are old.

179 words, about 85 seconds (estimate at 130 words per minute)