Dirty Old Lady Cave: Ernests Gulbis at the Cincinnati Open

Meet young Ernests Gulbis, who just turned the lovely age of 23. I apologize in advance to Mr. Gulbis, who seemed shy and a little bit wary of all the fans in Cincinnati: Sir, I am going to drool all over you. As dignified as I was in person, I shall now be mildly hysterical over your hotness. Since you are an adult, a professional tennis player, and are reputed to be a very rich boy who knows how to party, I’m guessing you can handle it.

That said, now I can tell my readers about my experience with this deliciously tall, Latvian athlete–and how I got to soak my fingers in his sweat. *quiver* There really is nothing better than a man who’s been working his muscles so hard he’s completely drenched. And it happens a lot in tennis. A lot. (I’ll be sharing some fantastically sweaty Rafael Nadal pics in the near future, in fact, so keep an eye out for that dripping wet goodness.)

Now. On to Cincy and the lovely Gulbis. Aside from the fact that he’s gorgeous, he’s also an immensely exhilarating player to watch. Lots of power, and it’s a little unbridled. Rowrr. I’m sharing some pics with you from the two qualifying matches Gulbis played to get into the main draw at the Western & Southern Open in Cincinnati. His first match was on Center Court, against Columbia’s Alejandro Falla. Because it was a qualifier, the stadium wasn’t full. This meant we could sneak down to box seats later on to get a better view, which is why some of these pics are a lot more close-up.

The second match (against Igor Andreev) was on Grandstand, the second largest court. This one has first-come-first-serve seats, which allows you to practically sit on the court–hence the way I obtained the luscious photo at left. I should have some more pics on the way in another post, but for now, let’s get started on the wonder that is Ernests Gulbis.

(Note: ALL pics are *clickable* for big, sometimes HUGE versions. Enjoy basking in the Ernests prettiness. I apologize if there is blurriness in some images. My little camera did its best, considering its age and the shaking excitement of its handler :))

PHOTOS: c2011 The Shrine to Actors. Please link to this page, rather than reposting the photos elsewhere. If you have a tennis, celeb, or Gulbis-related blog and link to this page, I can give your blog or page a link back in this post in return. Thank you!

Okay. Let’s start with Gulbis’ monster serve. A 135mph is no big deal to this guy. It’s a joy to watch how low down he gets during the ball toss, and then he’s just springloaded into the air. Gorgeous. And you know, it pulls the shorts really tight, too. *G*

One thing we learned while watching the tennis players–many of them wear black underwear underneath. This is the kind of thing that makes stylists cringe, but when you see how see-through a pair of sweaty white tennis shorts gets, you can kind of understand. (Armani babe Rafa? He wears white. He’s not afraid of transparency.)

My boy Gulbis? He wears turquoise. Turquoise. I am in love.

Definitely click this one for a good peek. Smooth creamy skin and turquoise undies. What else could a girl want?

Here’s a super close-up look at an awesome, airborne Ernests. You get a sliver of his bare back, and can ogle the lovely curve of his backside. The calves are pretty nice, too. 🙂 Go ahead and click. This one’s HUGE:

Just a cool shot, a man and his tennis ball…and ohhhh calf muscles. *drool*

Okay, I’m really starting to get into the calves now…guh…lovely legs. He also has a fantastic profile, and a very intense gaze when he plays. And yes, his hair does tend to go a bit wild…heh…

Here you can see how bare the stands are in the early stages of a tournament. Which is probably a lot less stressful for the players, and means better seats and better views for us pervy spectators trying to get a closer look at that turquoise underwear.

And look…there it is. *G*

Tennis boys are just so easy to perv over. I mean look at those curves, and the bulging calf muscles…I’m sorry, have I mentioned his lovely calves? Oh, I have? *ahem* Terribly sorry. But really…I mean…calves!

Did I mention that white tennis shorts, when sweaty, also tend to cling in all sorts of interesting ways? *GUH*

On the backside, too. So, soooo bitable.

I just love taking pics of the tennis serve…everyone has their own variation on the basic technique, their own flair. Here we get the ball toss, and if you like strong neck tendons…umphhh…then this one’s for you:

More serving pretteh…this one’s got everything:

And yes, here is the full ball picture. Hee. Totally accidental getting a picture of this, though perhaps my camera is now as perverted as I am. If you can take your eye off the ball for a moment…;) …you get to worship his taut little tummy as well.

No, really. He did have a tennis ball in his pocket. See?

So now, finally, on to the moment where I got to touch this fantastic morsel of a man. I generally avoid most fannish meetings these days. Interviewing a well-known person is so much more satisfying, because you get to communicate on an even–or at least closer to even–level. Fan crowds tend to have a pushy/begging vibe that puts me off, and the odds of a meaningful interaction are slim. But I was on vacation, and here was this lovely man who hails from the same little section of Eastern Europe my family does, so I felt a sudden urge to run over to the gate where the players depart the court.

There was a small crowd of fans already surrounding Ernests when I got there. That was when I realized how lusciously tall he is, because he was so easy to see above everyone else. I knew I had to be more aggressive than I like to be, so I walked straight up through a bunch of people who were randomly lingering, to see if I could get close enough for a photo. Ernests took pictures with a few squeeing gals, and then he was probably one foot in front of me. That was when I got my foot nearly smashed by two guys who just pushed past me and stood on either side of Ernie for a photo–without even asking or caring about anyone but themselves. This is the sort of thing I *hate* about these gatherings.

After these two rude guys had their way, it was clear Ernests had had enough of the whole thing, and he quickly started to walk away. It was tough to not feel annoyed and disappointed–I had been *so* close, and then these two jerks had ruined it for me. I honestly don’t remember if I moved forward or just reached out, but I managed to get two fingertips to brush Ernest’s side. He very kindly paused and I asked him as nicely as possible if I could please have a picture. He nodded, and then moved over to the side, his back to a wall.

And then he held his arm out–so I could sidle up to him for the picture. He was very quiet, and very reserved, but he had the warmest brown eyes and that gesture of letting me in was so sweet. I slipped in next to him, and he put his arm around my shoulders, and I gently touched his back. This meant I was pressed against him a bit, and I got a couple of fingertips on his stomach as well. He was totally, totally soaking wet but what the hell did I care? I was holding onto a young hottie with lovely muscles under that silky, sweaty shirt.

We took the pic with no flash, so Ernests actually asked if we got the photo, which was very considerate. Once he was sure it was all good, he started to move away. I thanked him, and he gave me another polite nod, and then he got himself out of there before anyone else tried to grab at him.

So I got lucky, and I actually have a pretty cool photo to remember this nice meeting. I would show it to you, but I’m too busy rubbing it all over my chest. *guh* Did I mention his beautiful brown eyes? Once he lays that gaze on you…oh, you’re a goner.

In the tennis arena, it seems that niceness can prevail. I have seen Roger Federer tell pushy fans (firmly, but politely) to back off and not shove eachother. Rafael Nadal has said in his autobiography that he will sign autographs for anyone, but the rude people won’t get a smile. Knowing how beautiful Rafa’s smile is, who would be so stupid as to be rude to him? As for Ernests, my advice is to be as polite, respectful, and non-rabid as possible. I know it’s tough when everyone around you is being an idiot, but trust me, a sweet and unoffended Ernests you can snuggle up to is well worth the effort.

Once he’s on his way again, and you’re ~~sucking~~ shaking the Ernests sweat from your fingers, you can perv and squee to your heart’s content. He’s happy, you’re delirious with glee–Everybody wins.