Best Man Speech Examples

Good evening. For anyone who hasn't worked it out from the matching ears, I'm Dan, Mike's younger brother, and I've been waiting twenty-nine years to have a microphone he can't take away from me.

Growing up with Mike wasn't always easy. He was the kind of brother who would eat the last slice of pizza and then deny it with crumbs still on his face. He was also the one who taught me to ride a bike on our street, running behind me long after he'd let go, so I'd think he was still holding on. That's Mike in one picture. He lets you believe you're doing it alone, and he's right there in case you're not.

When I was sixteen and failing chemistry, he stayed up until two in the morning drawing electron shells on the back of a pizza box. Different pizza. Same brother. When Dad was in the hospital three winters ago, Mike drove four hours through a snowstorm, walked into the ward still wearing his work boots, and sat down next to Mom like he'd been there all day. Nobody asked him to come. Nobody ever has to.

Then he met Claire.

I noticed something before he ever said her name. He started answering texts. He started, and I want to be careful here because it's still a little upsetting, ironing shirts. The first time I met Claire she asked me what Mike was like as a kid, and I gave her the pizza story, and she laughed and said, "He still does that." I knew then. Anyone who can see him clearly and stay anyway is the right person.

Claire, what you should know about the man you married is that he has never once left someone standing alone. Not me on that bike. Not Mom in that hospital. He will do that for you every day, without announcing it, and you'll only notice on the day you needed it most.

Mike, you were the first person who ever looked out for me. Watching you find the person who looks out for you is the best thing I've seen you do, and I've seen you land a kickflip.

So would everyone please stand and raise a glass. To Mike and Claire. May you always have someone running behind you, and may you never need them to hold on.

Good evening, everyone. I'm Ben. Jake and I met at freshman orientation, where he introduced himself to me, and to the entire floor, by locking himself out of his room within the first hour. In a towel. That was fifteen years ago, and I've been collecting stories ever since. Don't worry. I've been sworn to secrecy on most of them. The NDA only expired on three.

The first story. Sophomore year, Jake decided the best way to impress a girl in his statistics class was to serenade her outside her dorm. He does not sing. He did not know which window was hers. He got through most of a Journey song before campus security arrived, and the girl, who was at the library the whole time, heard about it on Monday from four separate people. She did not go out with him. She did, however, send a card to this wedding. It's on the gift table.

Here's a shorter one. He once drove ninety minutes to return a library book that was one day late, because "it's a matter of principle," and got a parking ticket doing it. That's the whole story. That's the whole man.

The last one is the one that matters. Four years ago Jake called me at eleven at night, which for him is unheard of, and said, "I think I've met someone who isn't going to put up with any of my nonsense." I said that sounded terrible. He said, "I know. Isn't it great?"

That was Priya. For anyone here who has watched Jake try to talk his way out of a plan or an early morning, you'll understand why the rest of us have been quietly celebrating ever since. She doesn't let him. She also, and I've seen this with my own eyes, laughs at the Journey story every single time. Jake, you found the one person on earth who thinks you're funny for the right reasons.

Priya, on behalf of everyone who loved this man before you did: thank you. You've taken on the guy who returns library books on principle and forgets his own birthday. You'll never be bored, and you'll never once wonder whether he's on your side.

Jake, I've known you in a towel and at the bottom of a Journey song. This is the best I've ever seen you look, and it isn't the suit.

Please raise your glasses. To Jake and Priya. May every story from here on be one you're happy to tell in public.

I'll keep it short, because I've been to a lot of weddings and I've never once heard anyone say "I wish the best man had gone longer."

I'm Chris. I've known Tom since we were eleven, which means I've watched him be good at exactly two things for twenty years: showing up, and pretending he didn't do anything special by showing up. When my dad died, Tom was at my house before I was. He didn't say much. He made tea, badly, and stayed until the last relative left. I never thanked him properly. Tom, that was it.

Three years ago he started talking about Sarah the way he talks about nothing else, which is to say, at length, unprompted, to people who hadn't asked. I met her at a barbecue where she beat him at cornhole and then helped him carry the chairs in, and I thought: she's going to be fine. He's the one who's in trouble.

Watching them together, what I notice is how patient she is and how proud he is, a little stunned that he got this lucky. Neither of them needs the room to notice. They notice each other. That's the whole thing.

Sarah, he'll show up. Every time. He'll also make you tea you'll have to quietly pour out. Tom, you married someone who beat you fair and square and then helped you clean up. Hold on to her.

Please raise your glasses. To Tom and Sarah. May you keep showing up for each other, and may the tea improve.