Romantic Wedding Vows (2 Minutes)

The vows

Xander, the first winter we were together, the washer in our building broke, and we spent every Thursday night at the laundromat on Water Street. You'd bring a bag of quarters and a deck of cards. The dryers took fifty-eight minutes. We never once used them to read.

One night the radio behind the counter played something slow, and you stood up and held out your hand. We danced between the folding tables while an old man pretended not to watch. My socks didn't match. You told me later you'd noticed and didn't care.

Nothing happened that night, really. It was warm in there, and you were looking at me like the rest of the room had gone quiet. That was when I knew.

I want a whole life of nights like that one. Plain ones.

I promise to keep finding reasons to dance with you in the wrong places. Kitchens. Parking lots. The line at the post office, if you're brave enough. I'll hold your hand when we walk, even when we're running late. I will keep my cold feet on my side of the bed, most nights. When you're scared, I'll tell you the truth, and then I'll stay.

And I choose you, Xander. On the dull Thursdays most of all.

We have our own washer now. Some nights I still miss the sound of those dryers.

I'd still dance with you in front of them.

Why it works: The romance comes from the setting being so unromantic: quarters, fluorescent light, a man pretending not to watch. She says plainly that nothing really happened, which is why the room believes her. The promises keep the dancing going in more wrong places, and the ending admits she misses the dryers, which is the most romantic line in it.