Wedding Websites
How to Write Your "How We Met" Story (With Examples)
Fizz Wedding(Updated )10 min read
The "How We Met" section is the most-read page on most wedding websites, and the hardest to start. You sit down to write the story you have told a hundred times out loud, and somehow it comes out flat, generic, or weirdly formal. This guide fixes that with a framework that works, a bank of real examples for every kind of relationship, and an honest method for using AI without sounding like everyone else who used AI.
The "How We Met" section, often called Our Story, is a short piece on your wedding website telling guests how the two of you came together. You do not strictly need one, but because it is the page guests read most, it is worth doing well, and it makes the rest of the day feel more personal.
Length is a matter of taste, not rule. Three tiers cover almost everyone:
Every good "how we met" story follows the same shape, whether it is two hundred words or eight hundred: Hook, Heart, Milestones, Now. Name it and the blank page stops being scary.
Invite family and friends to share their photos, videos, and well-wishes in one beautiful space.
Everything worth putting on a wedding website, the essentials, the sections that make it memorable, and the one thing almost every site gets wrong: planning for the photos and memories that arrive after the day.
Every example below follows this shape. Once you see it a few times, you will not be able to unsee it, and your own draft will fall into place.
Pick one tone and hold it the whole way through, because a consistent voice is what makes a story feel like yours. The five that work best:
If in doubt, write the way you would tell the story to a friend over dinner. That voice is almost always the right one.
Here is a bank of openings across genuinely different relationships and tones. Find the one closest to yours, borrow the shape, and make it true to you.
Everyone says it was a setup, and everyone is right. Our friend Priya had been threatening to introduce us for a year, convinced we would either fall in love or annoy each other to death. At her birthday dinner she sat us together and refused to make eye contact for the rest of the night. We talked until the restaurant turned the lights off. Priya, you may take full credit, you always do.
We both swear we almost did not match. One of us was about to delete the app; the other had a profile photo holding a fish, which remains a point of contention. But the first message turned into a three-hour phone call, the phone call turned into a date that ran past midnight, and the fish photo turned into a running joke we will be explaining to confused relatives for years.
We met across a meeting-room table on a Tuesday, which is not romantic until you know that neither of us remembers a single thing that was decided in that meeting. What we remember is the coffee afterwards, then the coffee that became lunch, then the lunch that became every lunch. Some love stories start with fireworks. Ours started with a shared spreadsheet and very good timing.
We have a photo of the two of us aged six, scowling at a birthday party we were both dragged to. We were friends, then we were not, then we were the kind of friends who lose touch for a decade. When we found each other again as adults, it took about a week to realise the obvious thing everyone but us had apparently always known.
The first time around, the timing was wrong, different cities, different lives, a goodbye we both meant. Years later a message arrived out of nowhere: "I think about that summer more than I should." We met for one drink to catch up. We are still catching up. Some things are not over, it turns out. They are just waiting.
For the first year, we measured our relationship in time zones and airport pickups. Love over a bad video connection teaches you to actually listen, because there is nothing else to do but talk. By the time we finally lived in the same city, we already knew each other better than couples who had never been apart. The distance was the hard part. It was also the making of us.
We are aware this happened fast. We met in the spring, moved in by the autumn, and got engaged before some of our friends had finished asking how it was going. When you know, you know, is a cliché until it happens to you, at which point it becomes the only sensible explanation you can offer anyone.
Neither of us expected to do this again. We had both built full lives, with histories and people we love, and we were not looking for anything. Which is, of course, exactly when it found us. This is not a story about starting over. It is a story about two people who already knew the value of what they had found, and were not about to let it go.
Our first date had a chaperone, technically three of them, aged four, seven and nine. Falling for each other turned out to be the easy part; the real story is the slow, careful business of becoming a family, one awkward dinner and one in-joke at a time. The kids will be standing with us when we marry, because this was always all of ours.
We met in a hostel kitchen arguing over a frying pan, which we now own, and which is coming to the wedding. One of us was three months into a trip with no plan; the other was leaving the next morning. The leaving got postponed. So did the rest of the trip. Some souvenirs you bring home are better than others.
We met at a friend's leaving party, the kind where you only know the host. We ended up in the corner by the records, discovering we owned the same albums and disagreed about all of them. Coming out, finding ourselves, finding each other, none of it was a straight line. But standing here now, about to marry the person who feels like home, every detour makes sense.
We are proof that there is no expiry date on this. We met in our sixties, both certain that chapter of life was closed and perfectly at peace with it. We were wrong, happily. What we have learned is that love in no hurry is its own kind of wonderful, unhurried, certain, and very glad it did not give up.
Twelve years, four homes, one extremely opinionated cat, and a great many people gently asking when. The honest answer is that we were never waiting for anything, we were just busy building a life we already loved. The wedding is not the beginning of our story. It is a party to celebrate one we have been writing for a long time.
AI can help you start, but used carelessly it produces the bland, interchangeable story everyone can spot. The fix is to give it your specifics and then rewrite in your own voice.
The reason AI output sounds generic is that it has nothing specific to work with, so it reaches for clichés. Feed it five real details and it has something to build on:
Six prompts worth trying:
Then run a five-point authenticity check before you publish: Does it use a detail only you two would know? Would your friends recognise your voice? Have you cut every "little did we know" and "the rest is history"? Does it open on a moment, not a date? Does the ending look forward? If yes to all five, it is yours, not the algorithm's.
If the two of you write differently, do not flatten your styles into one beige paragraph, use the difference. A dual-voice story, alternating between you, turns a mismatch into a feature, and reads like a conversation. Failing that, let the better writer draft and the other edit for truth, the one who remembers the details keeps the storyteller honest.
Your story is public, so apply a simple privacy filter before you publish. Leave out anything you would not want a distant relative or a stranger to read: past relationships, family difficulties, anything genuinely private, and inside jokes that need a paragraph of explanation. Keep the addresses and personal contact details off too. Warm and specific, not exposed.
If you are truly stuck, fill in these blanks and you have a draft.
We met [where and when, as a specific moment]. The first thing I noticed was [concrete detail]. It became something more when [the turn]. Since then we have [two or three milestones]. [One sentence on the proposal.] Now we cannot wait to [forward-looking line about the wedding].
Write it plainly first, then go back and add the one odd, true detail that makes it unmistakably you.
A good "how we met" story sets the tone for everything else guests read. It sits naturally beside your details, your guest book and your gallery, so people arrive at your wedding website already feeling part of the story. For what else belongs on the site, see what to put on your wedding website.
