Sexual Disorientation: Leagues, Positions or Players?

Delve into the jungle of the newly out and single. TNG Managing Editor Corey discusses dating and sex - or lack thereof - every Wednesday morning in Sexual Disorientation.

Baseball has given me only three things: a good reason not to watch TV in the summer; this picture of Nomar Garciaparra, which pretty much got me through high school; and a lot of great analogies for sex.

We start out as kids learning the ever-popular bases, which beyond first being kissing and a home run being, well, a home run, get kind of confusing. (In fact, either this Urban Dictionary entry is out of hand or I don't know nearly enough slang to be writing a dating column.) But we soon learn that there are also different "leagues" involved in courtship, with the Majors reserved for people who really know how to score. And at least if you're a gay man, you'll also become familiar with baseball positions - the catchers and pitchers deal which some people have taken beyond a top-and-bottom metaphor to a total descriptor of people's roles in a romantic pursuit.

But how much do leagues and positions, which are essentially just ways of grouping the dating pool, really matter? The more I talk about it, the more I feel that it's an illusion - at least to an extent.

I began to raise all these questions over the weekend after I was blatantly checked out by a random guy in the lounge outside my office. He was tall, dark, and handsome, totally cute, and way out of my league. Don't be cocky, I thought to myself; there's no way this guy could be checking you out. I looked away for a second but couldn't resist turning back. He was still looking in my direction, smiling ever-so-slightly. I started blushing and averted my eyes, leaving him to walk into the coffee shop and leaving myself confused.

Back in my office, I changed my gmail status - the bat signal of the 21st century young professional - to a detailed description of what had happened and the question of why someone who couldn't have been into me would have given me "the look." Within no time, five friends had responded to my message. The first few were from hetero ladies telling me that no one was out of my league. I appreciated their kindness, but really, I thought, they couldn't be serious.

I'm not what I would consider a shallow person, but I've always thought it a universal understanding that some people are objectively better looking than others; it has been a fact of life, like the sky being blue or Starbucks being overpriced. I have always believed that the personal chemistry I feel with a person, what we have in common, and what I can admire about them mean a lot more to me than how they look, but that has never stopped me from wondering if I've been attractive enough to earn someone else's attention. In fact, thinking about it I realized that I only employed leagues to place myself below people I found to be too good to want me, not to veto someone from earning my consideration.

The plot thickened when a gay friend suggested that anyone could be in whatever league they wanted if they were willing to play hard enough. If you can be the aggressor, and can pursue with confidence, you can get what guys you want. It may not exactly follow the "what position do you play," top-bottom idea that I've never gone along with, but it did have to do with roles. If I could lose my shyness and indecision and just go for it, could I change from being a gazelle to a cheetah and no longer have to worry about what guys are "in my league"?

I remain unconvinced. Yeah, my self-esteem isn't as high as it might be, and being a little less timid couldn't hurt my chances on the singles market. But part of that is who I am. I'm awkward, earnest, complicated, sometimes a little too naive and sometimes a little too skeptical, I always over-think things, and I can never accept the obvious answer. (Hence writing a column about this incident instead of just saying, he checked me out and therefore probably thought I was cute.)

And I think it's about more than just being the pursuer or the pursued, the one at bat or the one simply hoping to catch what comes near. Like it or not, people look different, present themselves differently, take care of themselves to different degrees... At the end of the day, no two people are quite alike, and we cannot be attracted to everyone.

But I think that what Ben told me makes sense, which is that "there are many, many teams in your league. So it is for most people." If I'm understanding him correctly, this means that we all seem attractive to different people. No matter how much I might change myself or how confident I might become, there are some guys who still wouldn't give me a second glance. But some people may not want me to change at all. Short, awkward guys with messy, self-cut hair and eyebrow rings might be exactly their type.

So maybe the labels we affix to others and ourselves don't matter nearly as much as the people playing the game. I've tried to keep this in mind this week while interacting with cute guys, even if my gut has told me that they're out of my grasp. Life is too short to always worry about what other people might be thinking based on our own conceptions of ourselves. I always thought it was presumptuous to assume that guys looking my way were checking me out, but maybe it's more presumptuous to believe that I know better than them what kind of guys they should be looking at. There is no rational system behind attraction, and as William James said in A Pluralistic Universe, "the only thing that ever drives human beings insane is logic"."

The new system is going well. And while I haven't hit it out of the park yet, at least I'm not sitting on the bench.