I had never felt explicitly desired until I downloaded Tinder my senior year of high school. I’ve spent much of my life struggling with self-esteem – I can remember thinking I wasn’t thin enough as young as 5- or 6-years-old and the issue persists today.

Tinder was an opportunity to receive the validation I had been craving. After a few swipes and exchanged messages, I started receiving compliments on my appearance like I had never experienced before. Receiving messages as simple as “you’re cute” or a cheesy pick-up line felt flattering and exciting. Even the pick-up lines that were a little off-center and even distasteful made me feel for the first time like I could be attractive – on one occasion, someone said, “Are you an orphanage? Because I’m tryna give you kids.” I had gone most of my life feeling like my body was not attractive, but within a few hours of Tinder swipes, I felt empowered. Until, suddenly, I didn’t.

I got caught up in the constant cycle of swiping, matching, messaging. Some led to a hookup, some didn’t. A boy I matched with early on, who I met up with a couple of times, seemed great until he stood me up one night in January. I spent hours in my room, waiting for a text I never received. I stayed up until 4 a.m. until finally deciding that maybe he did not want to see me. I never heard from him again. He was only the second guy I had been with and I was left feeling used. I had enjoyed being wanted in the moment, but I found myself afterward feeling unlovable, as though I could never be date-able for a boy.

As the months stretched on, I deleted and re-downloaded Tinder a few more times. With every impulsive download, I kept thinking my experience would be different. And pretty much every time, I was wrong. The experience was even worse. Last semester, I hooked up with someone who I assumed would be a one-time thing, only to wake up to a Snapchat from the guy. I thought I had a chance and this could turn into a regular fling. But he stopped responding in the middle of a conversation and I never heard from him again. It stung but didn’t surprise me.

I get attached easily and find myself conflating dating and hookups. Every time a boy ghosted me or a relationship ended poorly in one way or another, I would quickly spiral and tell myself that every ended relationship was the result of my unlovable nature. Every guy proved me right – I was unworthy of love, not pretty enough, not skinny enough. But at a certain point, I realized the issue had nothing to do with me and everything to do with college dating culture.

Both men and women who have casual sex had lower overall self-esteem compared to those who do not partake in casual hookups, according to a study by the American Psychological Association. On top of that, nearly 74 percent of college-aged women have reportedly experienced regret after a hook-up, with a different study showing that women have strong feelings of “regret because they felt used” after a hook-up. Every piece of research backed my experience. The ongoing struggle with body image, self-esteem and the desire to be desired entangles itself into a messy web of dating and hook-up culture, which I’ve discovered is more harmful to my struggle than the quick ego-boost.

For now, Tinder is deleted from my phone, but who knows the next time I will feel the urge to re-download for a quick confidence boost. Sadly, Tinder was not designed to cure my life-long battle with self-esteem. I need to remind myself that I am more than Riley, 19, a student who lives in D.C.  – I’m a person with interests and aspirations that people cannot see in my selfies and profile pictures. All I can really do is make the choices that feel right for me, and keep in mind that a swipe right is not indicative of my worth.