Seth Embry is BEAUTIFUL. Look at him. Hot-tttie!!! Seth wears scarves like Brad Pitt but he looks better in them. He wears the right shoes and the current belt. He’s polished. He’s saucy as hell. He’s minxy.

He’s moody and broody and dark humored; funny in such a way that if you didn’t get it you’re not paying attention. Seth makes sure you pay attention. I first met Seth on one of my many trips to New York to visit my sister. He is in school to be an architect – an artist – and I think also to be a German. He and Sara were living with my sister and Scott and Joe and (I do not remember how many people were living there but it was a lot) and I remember my boyfriend and I had gone to bed around 2 a.m. ish, and at 3 a.m. ish he came and leapt into a bobbing squat in front of my face saying “Oh my God Laura I’m so glad you’re here…how was your flight…is this the new guy???…you look fantastic!” I love Seth. He keeps you on your toes. I do not know a DAMN thing about buildings and city planning, but because of him I look at skyscrapers and city-lines and want artistry. He has an amazing inner brain chemistry of swirling metal twist beams and serial killer binge watches, schadenfreude and earnest. He has a southern upbringing and a Manhattan attitude which I find makes for some of the most wonderful people. Every time I’ve had the chance to be around him it is a flurry of activity. He’s the guy that grabs you from your wallflower stance and says GET IN THERE WOMAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOURSELF. He is at once Ouisa and Clairee – if you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit next to him…and then shut up, …Jesus.

Seff. Sethy. Embryshire. A Seth by any other name would smell just as sweet. Happy Birthday m’dear.

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