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"You won't find a love story about us," you said to me one contemplative night in our bed, held close for barely-breathed secrets, "because we're not the nice people, the good people, the ones you wish well and happy, with a long life, and all that. But the truth is that we, too, come to the wedding circle and with one reason: to make solemn oaths testifying to our love, to swear that we love as everyone everywhere loves."
And so we stand here on this circle today, I across from you, knowing that we have done horrible things without regret, but this isn't one of them. And, without regret, today we will speak nice ritualistic words, long memorized and kept close, and testify to the truth of our devotion, as all do, and their love is no more well-tended than ours.
And so my oath to you here today, made well-understanding the consequences, is that our love shall make us happy monsters. Because, in truth, what I replied to you that contemplative night is true today as well: that you in your age and I in mine may yet still learn to be nice or to fake it, or not, but happiness does not care if no one thinks us the heroes, nor does it care if you are right and history judges each one of our sins and finds us wanting, because it doesn't matter if we are well-remembered. We did our duty and kept our secrets, the way nice people keep their love: with care, held close to their hearts, and valued more than life sometimes. And if love may be kept that way, then so may all things, without any censure from you.
And now, today, before our chosen witnesses, our well-wishers, we stand to speak our truth, and it does not matter if it is an unpleasant truth: that we will speak some secrets and yet still keep one, or two, or more, hidden, as we have previously discussed and agreed, because our private oaths are for each other only. And thus are we wed, you with your stubborn arrogances and pride, well-known to all here with us today, and I, my love, with everything that makes me not nice.
This may not be a love story, but it's not only the nice people who may stand on this circle and speak truth about their emotions (ours no better than theirs) and say: "love may falter in time, as all emotions do, or it may be the one that remains, like a kept secret. We hope that our love well-knows how stay and not how to break free," and you say, "I marry you," and it is for me now to speak the nice words in kind, each one as you have. I will keep my end of the bargain, I will uphold the truth of my marriage vow, well-practiced in solitude in these long months, and I say, with no regrets: "I love you."