Ten years ago, I joined Tinder and I still haven’t figured out how to win. The object of the game is to find a partner to spend the rest of your life with, right? How can an objective so easy to comprehend be one of the most mind-boggling, challenging games to play?

When Thriller (Michael) and I (MJ) (yes our names are both Michael, so it was cute because Michael Jackson, his song “Thriller” and MJ…okay y’all get it) split at the end of 2012, I immediately joined this new craze and uploaded my best pictures and a detailed bio, naturally. Bam, I was another contestant in the exciting game of Tinder. When you first join, the instant gratification of men and women plastered all over your phone is unbelievable. It was a real life CandyLand. It was like having these beautiful creatures at your fingertips and one swipe could determine your Friday or Saturday night.

I imagined being in a room with various men lined up in front of me. I was in control and could press the green button for admittance into my life. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you know what I mean. I was so bewildered to have such easy access to any dude I wanted. I began venturing out on dates, almost every night of the week, while I was still living in Dallas. I could legit write a story about all my encounters. Oh wait, I am.

When I moved to Colorado in 2013, I was depressed from losing Thriller and from striking out from Tinder. I was in a terrible slump and realized that moving to Denver didn’t fix any of my problems immediately; neither did playing Tinder. Meeting boys in Dallas was fun, but nothing serious ever developed and now I just have chapters in my autobiography to go off of. While moving here initially was difficult, Denver is now home to me and maneuvering through the scary and eye opening experiences over the past two years has completely changed my life.

Ten years later and two ex-boyfriends to cross out of my list in red underline, (Taylor Swift) Tinder is just as hard as it was in 2013, even more exhausting than ever. The odd, often fickle guys I meet and my views of dating apps in general are this: You match with someone, flirt and make plans to meet. Some even talk about futures with you and how great your lives would align together. The hype seems real and then all of a sudden you’re ghosted. No reason, explanation or fake story of a dramatic thing that happened in their life. It’s not that difficult to say, “I’m just not that into you, bro.”

I usually get doods numbers quickly and vice-versa and plan a fun night out or a hike in the mountains. The exchanges of texting and talking on the phone are legit exciting, leading both of us to assume that meeting in person will be a walk in the park. The letdown of the real “Ken” doll up close and personal is so devastating that you swear off Tinder indefinitely. The next morning, you redownload the app and start playing again.

I had this dude come over a last year and we started cuddling. I figured it was a hook up, but as I told him some of my recent happenings in my life, he literally scrolled on his phone trying to find me a job without even asking me. I mean yeah, thanks for the links to jobs bro, but can we start kissing please? I don’t need someone to find a job for me; I’m the King of recruiting and promoting myself.

Another Tinder date I went on a few months ago started out pleasant, but as we began to have a conversation, I noticed him shaking and not asking me one question about me. I had to continue asking questions to dismiss the extremely awkward silence and even as I started to break the ice, the man could not reciprocate at all. The texting for a week prior to the date was great, so I was outrageously flabbergasted on how the date turned out.

As we get older, we realize that meeting someone and falling in love on social media isn’t completely realistic. The frustrating part is that no one really meets organically anymore because we are all so stuck up our own asses to strike up a conversation in person. Or because they’re married, open, poly, demi, etc…So, how do we meet people? Some random is going to hit on you at King Soopers? How about buying you a drink at the bar with intentions of not just wanting to bone you? Sorry, but that unfortunately just doesn’t happen like it did two decades ago.

As I think about all the times I’ve lost while playing Tinder, some small part of me truly believes a strong, hunky Paul Bunyan type man will open the door to the next level of the game, making me the happiest “Barbie,” in the world. A sporty jock, Nick Bosa athletic type would be nice, too. Have you won at Tinder?

Photo Cred | Best Life