After the hugely popular Pokémon Go app was released last week and downloaded by at least 15 million users, singles started using the virtual reality game for more than just catching Pokémon. Our intrepid reporter Melkorka Licea decided to jump into the Poké-dating pool — head first.

Right after I booted up the app on my iPhone, a Rattata popped up on the stairs of Union Square Park next to two guys. They were pointing their phones at the rat-like creature too, so I knew they were playing.

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” I told myself, smoothing out my flyaways and putting my game face on.

I moved up next to them and tried to get the creature with a single flick of my pointer finger, but the screen froze.

Pokémon Go is the best way for a single woman to catch an actual nice guy.

“Hey, could you guys help me out?” I said. A classic damsel-in-distress move.

“Sometimes the game glitches,” said the cute one, Mark “MJAce” Joseph, 28, wearing all-black workout clothes and a warm smile.

After a few minutes of Poké-flirting, I was ready to make a move.

“Hey, this may sound a bit crazy, but would you want to go out with me?” I said nervously.

“I don’t see why not!” he replied, and took down my number.

Score! I felt like even Charmander (a cute dinosaur with a fiery tail) couldn’t compete with my charm.

But I soon found it was only a stroke of beginner’s luck.

I next wandered into a clutch of four guys trying to catch a Pinsir (which looks like an angry beetle).

“You guys are playing Pokémon, right?” I asked. They said yes, my cue to continue.

“I’m only a level 4, kind of pathetic,” I said, fishing for reassurance from a handsome Poké-man.

“Well, I’m a level 18!” said Tao Wang, 28, taking the bait. He was wearing a nicely pressed sky blue button-up and glasses. I was impressed.

“Are you single?” I said, feeling cocky from my last encounter.

“I’m married,” he said.

How did I miss the ring? Red-faced, I apologized. But he was polite: “I’m Pokémon single, though!” We laughed and parted ways.

My next two encounters were fails. The first guy, Andrew, 24, was dressed in a checkered shirt and had a hipster crewcut. But he wasn’t into my aggressive tactics.

“Do you think you’d ever ask someone out who you met Poké-hunting?” I asked demurely.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try asking someone in the future,” he said, oblivious to my feminine wiles.

Jack Brandon, 28, was friendly and eager to talk, but also very taken by a girl in Atlanta.

I was starting to feel a bit like a reflection of my Pokémon avatar name — “CreepylilLady” — when I finally nabbed my next number.

Andrew “FlyGeminiGuy” Davoren, 27, was leaning against a fence catching a Zubat (a toothy bat) when I deftly slid in next to him.

He was dressed in black with a Yankees cap, and had a mysterious air about him.

When I launched a Poké ball straight for his phone number, he happily let me lock it down.

But some guys were just a bit too Poké.

One perched on the stairs wore a Pokémon backpack and Ash hat (what the main character from the Pokémon show wears). I passed.

Cargo shorts, neon-colored clothing and long ponytails are also turnoffs for me — and at least five guys sported that look.

Peter Jeffrey, 29, wearing dark sunglasses and a purple plaid shirt, was catching the bug-like Venonat when I approached.

“How long have you been playing for?” I asked.

“Only a few days, but people are so into it, it’s crazy. I feel like it’s too much mind control,” he said. I appreciated how quickly he was willing to get deep. I decided to go for the gold.

“Would you wanna go out sometime?” I asked.

He happily gave me his phone number and we chatted about how popular Pokémon was when we were kids.

Even though I had to put on all the moves (something some girls might not be comfortable with, but not me), I liked most of the Poké-men I was meeting.

Ladies, screw Tinder. Pokémon Go is the best way for a single woman to catch an actual nice guy.