When life hands you strawberries, you make a strawberry daiquiri. And when life gives you shoes, you find a matching outfit. Sometimes the answers are obvious. But other times, life hands you things you don’t quite know how to deal with. After getting over my literal and hypothetical hangover, commonly known as a broken heart, I slowly began to appreciate the little things in life again. Even though I made a lot of bad choices, broke a couple hearts and spent one too many nights oblivious to my surroundings (thank you, alcohol), I also grew closer to my friends, spent more time with my family and learned a lot about myself. For the first time in five years, I did not need a man to make me happy.

And just when I gained the new insight of “singlehood,” life handed me something I did not expect-déj… vu. Now, I’ve often been a fan of God’s familiar surprises in the past. I’ve found a $5 bill on several occasions, and I’ve spent every Christmas placing the same intricate stockings over the fireplace and trimming the same artificial tree with the usual decorations.

This dose of déj… vu was not quite as pleasant.

My soon-to-be-ex-husband returned to town on a three-week vacation just six months after I left Alaska. The last memory I had of him was us saying goodbye at the airport, distance in his eyes. I knew he would ask to see me again, so I prepared myself for an emotional rollercoaster. Good thing I put on my seat belt.

I will admit that seeing him after all that time gave me chills. I had begun to forget his face, along with his hazel eyes. Or, rather, I forced myself to forget. Regardless, it did not take long for the begging and apologies to begin. And for days I listened to the subtle remorse in his voice. I tried to stay strong, but with every seemingly-genuine word that escaped from his lips, my wall grew closer to collapsing.

I began to remember the good times we had together-long before the hurt and the pain. I couldn’t tell if I was making it up in my head for the sake of painting a pleasant picture of a reality that never existed, or if what I was remembering actually happened. Either way, I saw myself giving in to this fantasy, and the rollercoaster gained complete control.

We then discussed the possibility of getting back together. It was a talk I never expected to have, but I realized that I was running from something that may have been my fate. And although I’m seldom a giver of second chances, I toyed with the idea of deviating from my norm.

Then, just when I thought I was on top, the rollercoaster went downhill. Once again, I discovered there was someone else. Yes, I fell for it again.

At first I contemplated how the hell he managed to acquire all these women with my name tattooed over the left side of his chest-a drunken statement he made as a symbol of his love for me before we married. I’m sure it has made for interesting conversation on several occasions, halting his striptease after he takes off his shirt in an attempt to “woo” these women into sleeping with him time and time again. It paints an enlightening picture in my mind, I must admit, to think of the confusion on these girls’ faces when they see my name in bold, italic print placed directly over his heart.

Then, I realized I set myself up for everything, allowing myself to be second place far too long. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for him to realize his mistake. But by the time the epiphany came, I was already gone. I managed to get off the rollercoaster unscarred, unbruised and unbroken. I guess I’m getting better at this thing called life.

Sometimes people enter our lives more than once. And when they do, we so badly want to resist the temptation of comfort and familiarity they bring. Some people do deserve second chances. Without them, we have no way of knowing what might have been, and we would spend the rest of our lives wondering what would have happened if we had given it one more try.

But when you find yourself in my shoes, having been put in second place over and over again, find the courage to walk away. No woman deserves to be the other girl, or the sometimes girl, or the next girl or the “I’ll-call-you-when-I-feel-like-it girl.” We all deserve to be THE girl. And if you aren’t that person now, you probably never will be.

So scream “Stop!” to the balding machinist working the rollercoaster before you find yourself stuck upside down, holding on for dear life, and save the tears for someone worth the time and heartache. He enters your life when you least expect it…