I have a Valentine’s Day story for you:

Nigel was a seabird who lived in New Zealand. He was a gannet, one of those streamlined white birds that looks like a seagull on steroids, and he was a hopeless romantic.

A couple decades ago, conservationists peppered a New Zealand beach with concrete decoys that looked just like Nigel, and when he flew by five years ago, he saw one that appeared particularly becoming. He landed, introduced himself to the decoy, built her a nest, and waited patiently for his stone-cold mate to lay an egg. The conservationists were ecstatic because they’d finally found success: gannets were eradicated from that beach years ago, and the concrete decoys were meant to lure in live birds; loudspeakers were even used to play gannet mating calls on loop.

But Nigel was the only bird who landed. No real birds came to live in his nest or give him an egg that might hatch. So, Nigel flew away, and the conservationists went home to wait for another season. And when it came, so did Nigel. He landed once more and made his way through the gamut of stone decoys, looking for his special lady, and when he found her, he reintroduced himself, built her a nest, and waited once more for his statuesque mate to lay an egg. She never did, so Nigel flew away again, gliding over the surf with still wings like seabirds do.

This went on for five years. Nigel would land and look, introduce and build. He’d even preen his girlfriend’s feathers, doing his best to remove the dirt that’d accumulated on his sedentary best friend. You see, gannets mate for life, staying true to just one bird forever because that’s the way it works best for them, so Nigel wooed the same concrete bird for five years fruitlessly, right up until the day he died in that lonely nest, a few weeks ago.

At this point, what I just gave you probably doesn’t feel too much like a Valentine’s Day story, but frankly, it’s genius because it works for all of us. For those of us in committed relationships, Nigel is a mascot, someone we should all try to emulate, no matter how hard it might be to love the bird we chose. And for those of us who are lonely and single on this very pink and cuddly holiday, Nigel is a reminder that it could always be worse, because at least you’re not building nests for a rock. See what I mean? And the best part is that none of this is fictional—if you don’t believe me, you can watch Nigel’s struggle here.

And do you know what else works for all of us? Marijuana. For real. It makes bad dates better and good dates the best. It makes loneliness more bearable and partnership more companionable. And it makes the best Valentine’s Day gift ever, regardless of which side of the spectrum you’re on, because flowers and cordiform boxes got old a while ago. Seriously, how many points would you score with him or her if you showed up with a bouquet of flower, instead of flowers? And if you don’t have a him or a her, wouldn’t a bunch of bud just for yourself make the day a bit better? Probably.

So come in and see us. We still have plenty of reloadable gift cards, which are infinitely more practical than my marijuana bouquet idea, and we still have a little Foria Pleasure left that we’re selling at 20% off while supplies last. And best of all, we’re having a Valentine’s Day special on all our infused chocolates (20% off), so even if you’re a traditionalist who goes the heart-shaped-box-route, at least you’ll be able to fill it with something better than all that hazelnut nonsense that just gets picked through anyway. See what I mean when I say We’re Your Best Buds?!

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