Josh, I can’t believe that our big day is finally here. Today, I’m the luckiest woman in the world, because I get to marry you, Josh, my best friend.
To be clear, the five women to my left aren’t my best friends. Even though they’ve spent a cumulative total of sixty-seven years supporting me from elementary school until right now. They have been with me through thick and thin, including those six years when you refused to be exclusive, which really messed with my self-esteem. Yes, these ladies did all that and so much more, but ever since we became official last June, I’ve known that it’s you, Josh. You’re my best friend.
You have been there for me in sickness and health, except when I got really drunk at your frat party, and you couldn’t take me home because you were setting an example for the pledges. Yes, technically, my roommate Steph held my hair back and cleaned the vomit off my chin. And a big “thank you” to Steph for paying the cleaning fee to Uber, as well. But Steph’s not my best friend, because I’m not marrying her. I’m marrying you, Josh, my now indisputable best friend.
You’re my rock, Josh. Not my childhood neighbor Mary, who came over with ice cream when you cheated on me during your semester in Barcelona. Let us not forget that it was also Mary who forgot to bring the sprinkles when you cheated on me the second time in Madrid. LOL. But all kidding aside, Josh, the past is the past, and you’re the person I trust the most. And for that, te amo, mejor amigo.
And speaking of “kidding,” you’re also the funniest person I know, Josh. Even my softball bestie, Clarissa, a literal stand-up comedian who has won three Emmys for her comedy, can’t hold a candle to your encyclopedic knowledge of Rick and Morty quotes. You’re such a silly, crazy goose and I have to say, you’re right: if you weren’t the sales manager at your FinTech startup, you would definitely be writing for SNL too. Because you’re hysterical, best friend.
Josh, you’re not only funny but also reliable, and I know you would do anything for me. Sure, you wouldn’t help with any wedding planning and told me that “flowers are boring” and that I could “fuck off” when I asked you about color schemes. And yes, I had to send my cousin, Danielle, to pick up your tux just last week. But Danielle didn’t hand deliver the outfit when she got to your apartment. She left it in the lobby like some discount delivery service. Somehow, though, you always manage to persevere. And boy, do you look good in that tux today, my handsome, stylish best friend.
We are family, Josh, even more than my sister, Sarah, who hand-selected and arranged every flower for our special day. Sarah is barely smiling right now. What’s up with that, Sarah? Anyway, Josh, it’s just like you said, “Flowers are boring.” But you know what’s not boring? Best friendship. Which is what we have.
You’re the most important thing to me in the whole wide world, Josh. That’s why I asked nearly nothing of you in the lead-up to this wedding and asked that Steph, Mary, Clarissa, Danielle, and Sarah each spend over five thousand dollars on my bachelorette party in Tulum and bridal shower in Greenwich. Not to mention their hair and makeup and the blush-toned bridesmaid dresses that make them look like a bunch of giant thumbs. But guess what? You don’t need thumbs to wear a wedding band; you only need your left ring finger and a best friend.
Who even are these women standing next to me? They’re just some girls I know. Because, Josh, you’re my one and only. You’re my favorite human and my future. I stand here before you today to say that it’s you, Josh, you are my best friend.