Good evening, everyone. I promise to keep this under an hour. Maybe two, if the open bar holds.

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Tyler — Jake’s best man, long-time friend, and reluctant survivor of several Jake-led outdoor adventures. We go way back — high school detention, actually. I was in for passing a note about whether our teacher owned more than one tie. Jake was in for skipping gym to get breakfast tacos. Not exactly a cinematic meet-cute, but I remember at the end of detention, he looked over, handed me half a taco, and said, “You looked hungry.” And I thought — yep. This guy’s my kind of idiot.

From that moment on, we’ve been through it all together. College, questionable hair choices, late-night road trips, bad roommates, worse decisions, and somehow still managed to make it to each other’s milestones. He’s been like family to me. The kind that doesn’t ask for much but always shows up — with snacks, tools, and probably duct tape.

Now, Jake has always been someone who didn’t need to be the center of attention; but somehow, he holds the room anyway. He’s quick — not in the “look at me” way — but in the quiet, thoughtful way. Like the guy who remembers your dog’s name from a one-off conversation six months ago. Or brings coffee when he knows you’ve had a rough morning. Or shows up early, stays late, and handles things without ever needing to be asked.

There was this one summer... Jake got it into his head that we needed to “get in touch with nature.” So, we go camping. He shows up with a borrowed tent, two gallons of lighter fluid — which, in case you’re wondering, is enough to ignite most of a forest — and a speaker that only played country covers of early 2000s rap. We ate cold beans, almost set the woods ablaze, and got chased by a raccoon the size of a toddler. It was an unqualified disaster. And one of the best weekends of my life.

But that’s Jake. He creates the kind of memories you don’t realize are golden until you’re sitting around years later, laughing so hard you can’t breathe. And somehow, even in chaos, he keeps his calm — with that little spark that makes everything feel a bit lighter.

There was also the quieter side.

A night I won’t forget — when Jake was going through something rough. We just sat in my truck, talking until sunrise. No jokes, no noise. Just realness. That night shifted our friendship. I saw the depth of his loyalty, the way he listens without rushing to fix, the way he stays — even when it's heavy.

And when my dad passed, Jake didn’t call to ask what I needed. He just showed up. He flew in early, stayed late, drove relatives around, brewed endless coffee. He sat with me when there was nothing to say. That’s the kind of friend he is. The kind who shows up, anchors the chaos, and makes you feel — even in grief — that you’re not alone.

So, when he told me about proposing to Emily, I wasn’t surprised it wasn’t some big production. He had this whole weekend plan, but ended up asking her on a Tuesday morning in their kitchen. He was barefoot, making pancakes, ring in his hoodie pocket. He looked at her, and just… knew. No grand gestures. Just a quiet, perfect moment. That’s very Jake.

But the best part? Emily said yes before he even got the words out. Which proves she’s both smart and psychic.

And Emily — you. You’re his match in the best way. You don’t let him coast. You call him on his nonsense. You bring out his best without changing who he is. I’ve watched you two grow through long-distance, job moves, family stuff — and every time, you’ve come through it steadier, kinder, more in sync. There’s a gentleness between you that doesn’t need to shout to be seen. And that, to me, is what love really looks like.

Jake doesn’t have to perform around you. You meet him in the quiet places. You challenge him, tease him, love him — all with this sense of play and peace. That’s rare. And it’s powerful.

In a world that moves too fast and feels too loud, Jake and Emily are each other’s home base. Steady, kind, and real. That’s the kind of love I want to root for.

So here’s to the tacos that started it all. To country covers and camping near-death experiences. To Tuesday mornings and pancake proposals. To loyalty, laughter, and love that doesn’t need to be loud to last.

To Jake and Emily.

Cheers.