Look at what frustrates you. Look at what problems you have. They will tell you the game you're playing. If you're an artist who claims to create for creation's sake but resents being ignored, that should tell you that you're playing for recognition. If you're someone who's "Above office politics" but bitter about being passed over when it's promotion season, that should tell you that you're playing for advancement. If you think you're too good for the standard mating dance or buying flowers, but then whine about sleeping alone, that should tell you that you want the prize without paying the admission fee. 

Every problem, every complaint reveals what game you're actually invested in, whether you know it or not. And the nature of any game is transactional. We all know this on some level, except the thing is that knowing something intellectually and actually operating from that knowledge are two vastly different animals, and what happens is that you take this basic transactional skeleton and wrap it in layer after layer of romantic gauze. You handicap yourself with these noble narratives (notice how the nobility always happens to align with whatever makes you feel virtuous) and then experience this genuine shock when you're systematically outmaneuvered by those who've chosen instead to look directly at what's actually happening. 

If you truly operate without caring about outcomes, you will have no complaints about lack of outcomes. You won't talk about it much either. Why would you? You're not playing that game. So the moment you find yourself frustrated, you know you've been playing for outcomes all along. And the only honest move here is to admit that you're still a player. 

So, see the real rules. Then decide: Will you play properly or not play at all? 

Most principled stances cost you dearly. And that's fine if you live them without question. If you're such a person, winning means nothing next to a clean conscience and a straight spine. And you won't whine about losing either. Most likely, you'll stop playing the game altogether. But if you secretly want to win and don't see that your principles aren't really principles but fancy ornaments that only look good on twitter — carefully curated ethical positions and tastes you affirm everytime you scroll past your feed, telling yourself you're above such compromises even as you mentally calculate how much this moral inflexibility is costing you everyday — you'll get nowhere. You'll watch and complain from the sidelines as less scrupulous and tasteless players collect the rewards you've convinced yourself you don't really want anyway. 

You'll lose. Every time. And then you quickly defend your lack of clarity about this with self-soothing narratives about why you're losing. 

Your ethics and moral preferences are either tools in the game or reasons to stop playing. They're not a third option where you get to play badly and blame the game. 

Play properly, don't play, or keep losing while telling yourself stories.