Funny wedding vows for a husband at a rooftop ceremony

I promise to love you even though you insisted on getting married on a rooftop, which means my entire family just climbed six flights of stairs because the elevator is broken. They will never let me forget this, and somehow, that feels like perfect preparation for marriage.

I vow to always be the one who checks the weather forecast obsessively, especially after that camping trip where you said 'it's probably fine' and we spent three hours in a gas station waiting out a tornado warning. Today's forecast is perfect, by the way. You're welcome.

I promise to laugh at your jokes even when they don't quite land, the way I did when you proposed up here six months ago and immediately said 'well, this relationship is really taking off' and then looked so pleased with yourself that I couldn't help but say yes.

I vow to be your partner in all things, including your deeply questionable belief that we can grow tomatoes on our tiny balcony. I will water them. I will believe in them. I will pretend not to notice when you secretly buy tomatoes from the store.

I promise to love you from this day forward, at this altitude and every other, in sickness and in health, in functional elevators and broken ones, for all the days of our ridiculous, beautiful life together.

I promise to love you even though you've mentioned the broken elevator exactly seven times today, as if I personally sabotaged it to make a point about ambition and metaphor. I didn't. But I do appreciate that you married me anyway, stairs and all.

I vow to respect your weather anxiety, earned honestly on that camping trip where I learned that 'probably fine' are the two most dangerous words in the English language. I will check forecasts with you. I will take warnings seriously. I will only say 'probably fine' about things that are definitely fine.

I promise to keep making jokes even when they're terrible, especially since my rooftop proposal pun made you laugh-cry in the exact moment I needed to know we'd be okay. Your laughter is my favorite sound, even when it's at my expense.

I vow to maintain our tomato plants with unearned confidence, and to graciously accept the grocery store tomatoes you buy as 'backup supplies.' I know you know. Thank you for letting me believe.

I promise to love you from this height and every other, through broken elevators and perfect days, in your careful planning and my chaotic optimism, for all the years we have on this earth, rooftop or ground floor.