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Wedding Vows · How to / How not to

How to Write a Wedding Vow (and How Not To)

Most vows are a thesaurus apologizing for the fact that you didn't write anything down until the morning of.

By Cynical SallyIssue Nº 1

A wedding vow is a promise read aloud to one person while 80 others pretend not to be filming it. That is a high-pressure genre, and most people respond to the pressure by reaching for the same six adjectives everyone else already used. 'Best friend.' 'Soulmate.' 'Partner in crime.' Words so worn smooth that they slide off the room without touching anyone.

This is what you getA real Full Truth, in full
Cynical SallyWedding Vows

The Full Truth

on A groom's handwritten wedding vows

4.3
out of ten
You wrote 'you complete me,' which is both a borrowed line and, legally, a concerning thing to admit about your sense of self.
The Investigation
  1. 01

    Adjectives doing the work that stories should do

    Critical

    The first half is a pile of traits ('beautiful, kind, my best friend, my rock') with nothing underneath them. The reader has no idea why she's your rock. Replace one adjective with the moment that earned it: the night the diagnosis came in and she was the only one who didn't flinch. One specific scene outweighs ten compliments, and you have specific scenes. Use one.

  2. 02

    Borrowed lines where your own voice should be

    Critical

    'You complete me' and 'I can't imagine life without you' are not yours. They're from a movie and from every other vow ever read. Borrowed language tells her you reached for the nearest cliche instead of into your own memory. Cut both. The clumsiest true sentence you can write beats the smoothest one you stole.

  3. 03

    No actual promises in a document literally called 'vows'

    Notable

    You describe how you feel today but never say what you'll do tomorrow. Feelings are weather; vows are architecture. Add at least two concrete 'I will' lines, including one for the hard days: what you'll do when she's unbearable, broke, or scared. That's the part that holds up at year 19.

The Copy Clinic

You are my best friend, my soulmate, and my rock. You complete me, and I can't imagine my life without you. You're the most beautiful, kind, and caring person I've ever met.

You're the person who drove four hours through a storm to sit in a hospital corridor with me, then pretended the vending-machine coffee was fine so I wouldn't worry. I didn't know I needed that until you did it. I'm not marrying you because you're perfect. I'm marrying you because you show up.

I promise to always make you happy and to never let you down, for the rest of our lives.

I can't promise to always make you happy. So instead: I promise that on the days I make you miserable, I'll be the first to say so, and I'll stay in the room until we've fixed it. I promise to keep choosing you on the boring Tuesdays, not just the good ones.

The Action Plan
  1. 1List five moments only you two share. The argument that ended in laughing, the bad habit you secretly love, the day you knew. Raw, not polished. This is your raw material.
  2. 2Pick the two that make your chest tighten and build the vow around those. Delete every adjective that isn't earning its place beside a real moment.
  3. 3Turn your feelings into promises. For each thing you love, write the matching 'I will' that protects it. Include one promise for the worst day, not just the wedding day.
  4. 4Read it aloud, time it, cut to under two minutes. Anywhere your mouth trips or your eyes well up, that line stays. Anything that sounds like a card, that line goes.
Yours for the price of a coffee.Printed with disdain
Your turn

That was a stranger's wedding vows. Drop yours, I will go just as hard.

One coffee, from €2,99. No mercy.

The good news: a vow is the one piece of writing where you have an unfair advantage. You know things about this person no one else on earth knows. The whole job is to stop hiding behind greeting-card language and actually say one of them out loud. Specificity is the entire game. Sally is here to take the laminate off.

How to do it right
  • 01Name one real moment. The Tuesday they sat with you in the ER, the way they reorganize the dishwasher wrong. Detail is the only thing that proves you mean it.
  • 02Make actual promises, not compliments. A vow is a contract. 'I will' beats 'you are' every single time. Say what you'll do when it's hard, not how dreamy they are today.
  • 03Read it out loud before the day. Your eyes forgive bad rhythm; your mouth does not. If you stumble on a sentence at home, you will sob through it at the altar.
  • 04Cut it to under two minutes. The room's attention is a candle, not a furnace. Land the plane while they still want more, not while they're checking the catering.
  • 05End on a promise, not a summary. The last line is the one they keep. Make it a thing you'll still mean in 40 years, not a recap of the previous paragraph.
How not to
  • Opening with 'Webster's dictionary defines love as.' Nobody has ever been moved by a man quoting a reference book at his own wedding.
  • Stacking adjectives instead of evidence. 'Kind, smart, beautiful, funny, caring' is a casting notice, not a vow. Five traits, zero proof.
  • Writing it for the audience. The minute you add a joke for the back row, you've stopped talking to the person you're marrying. They can tell.
  • Promising the impossible. 'I'll never make you sad, I'll always know what you need.' You're setting up a 50-year breach of contract in front of witnesses.
  • The inside joke nobody can follow. 'And of course, the llama.' Cute for two of you, a dead zone for the rest of the room and a black hole on the video.