They say Americans love three things most: apple pie, the Super Bowl, and chatting around a fireplace. I’ve checked off the first two, but installing a traditional fireplace in my apartment? My landlord would probably kick me out on the spot. That is, until I met Dave—yes, I named my alcohol lamp fireplace.

Dave showed off its dramatic flair on its first day at my place. I carefully poured fuel into it following the instructions, then lit it with a long-handled lighter—and wow, the flames shot up faster than I do when I see a half-price sale. I almost thought I’d invited a fire-starter who wanted to burn down my apartment, not a cozy little fireplace. Luckily, it calmed down after three minutes and started dancing gracefully with its flames.

I have to admit, Dave really changed my social life. Before, when I invited friends over, the best I could say was “Netflix and chill?” Now I can ask in a fake profound tone: “Want to come over and check out my new alcohol lamp fireplace?” The effect is amazing—my friends all think I’ve suddenly become tasteful, but really, it was just a slip of the finger when I was swiping my credit card online.

Dave’s best skill is its “ambiance-creating magic.” Date night? Dim the lights, light Dave, and it instantly elevates a “regular Wednesday night” to a “romantic fine-dining” scene. Though there was one time I might have added a little too much fuel—the flames got so big they almost reheated my spaghetti—but let’s be real, what love story doesn’t need a little passion?

Of course, living with Dave comes with some rules:

What surprised me most is Dave’s versatility (multi-functionality). In winter, it warms my heart in the living room; in summer, it moves to the balcony and becomes the “leader of the camping vibe crew.” On Thanksgiving, it even doubled as extra lighting—though the flames charred the turkey wing that was too close. But honestly, who needs symmetrical food anyway?

Now I’ve become an ambassador for alcohol lamp fireplaces. I tell everyone I meet: “You need a Dave!” The elderly lady next door thought I’d gotten a new boyfriend—until I showed her Dave in person. Now she has one too, and named it Doris.

Seriously, in this age where everything is digital, having a real little flame flickering in your life feels incredibly therapeutic. Dave doesn’t talk, but it says it all with warmth and light. And most importantly—it never fights me for the remote, and never complains about me eating too much pizza.

So if you want a “roommate” who doesn’t talk back, creates ambiance anytime, and doesn’t need you to help fix its car, maybe you should consider getting an alcohol lamp fireplace. Just a word of advice: don’t name it like I did—because now every time I clean it, I feel as weird as giving a pet a bath.