Cornlips

 What a surprise. Another familiar face and name came up on my FB page. This was a good one, a guy named Pete (which is an awesome name, BTW) whom I met way back in the day when he was bouncing where I tended bar. More so than most Pete's I can think of, this Pete was super nice and quite friendly until it was time to be not quite so friendly. I was never able to watch, but he used to appear in karate tournaments in the early days of ESPN. I'm sure he was good, though I never even saw him have to fight a belligerent drunk. He handled things well. 

So, I looked to see who else he might have in fold from the old days. One name came to mind. Cornlips. That wasn't her real name, but it was close to that. Her last name was different too, but that is usually explained by marriage, or on the lam from the law. There were no personal photos of her, but how many Cornlips could there be that also knew my friend Pete? I'm gonna say, one. 

Cornlips tended bar with me. She was an odd duck, kinda hostile; one of those guarded people who seem to like to feel like everyone is against them. I have to say I didn't like her much at first, but I'm more receptive to people once I get to know them better. She wasn't a very good bartender. She couldn't handle the dining room or cocktail stations yet always muked about getting stuck dealing with customers on the rail. I recall her as being a feminist who also wanted to be a dainty little girl whenever convenient. If some small thing didn't go her way but seemed to go mine or another guy's, she'd 'd snarl and say: "I guess you've gotta have a dick!" I'd reply that it worked for me. She had broken two bottles of Southern Comfort by putting her purse down on the back of the bottom shelf we called "The Island" and yanking the purse up when she had to scurry to the bathroom. The boss was not happy about that and wanted to charge her house price for that, which would be what the per-drink price of that bottle would bring if we sold XX number of drinks out of it rather than had it broken on the bar floor. Well, that's not really legal. I fixed it so she could buy two bottles at the liquor store (retail price) and she could put her purse up the shelves above, which I would reach for her because she had already protested that she was too short to do so. I'm a problem solver. 

Now, I wasn't the least bit attracted to Cornlips. She had wiry, Strawberry blonde hair maybe (I don't really remember) and I got to say; Bette Davis eyes. The song was quite popular, and she did a nice rendition of it at every Karaoke bar she could. I never found Bette Davis attractive, nor Cornlips even though she had what we were calling: "A generous helping of golden bozos" at the time. Tits, as Steve Martin described them at the time. Big titties are fine. I'm just not as whooped on them as most guys are. Whatever the universe gave a woman is good enough for me. Anyway, this was fine as I wasn't going to sleep with either of them. Boys and girls are supposed to be able to be friends without exchanging precious bodily fluids. Right?

I think somebody forgot to tell her that. My dumbass thought I had made it obvious enough by never coming on to her, in anything resembling a direct way.  This was back in the day when I was as young and pretty as I used to like to think I was. And I was. I got around pretty good. Her and I hooking up had never been on my mind. I had made a veneral disease joke one night, which she had berated me for, and she told me that once she had caught gonorrhea. Yikes. You bet I made a mental note of that. At the restaurant we all often went out drinking after work. Boys and girls, pretty much as friends. I invited Cornlips along. It turned out that a misspent youth had taught her to shoot a pretty fine game of pool. We had a very obnoxious cook named Don who had beat us all at pool and been a dick about it. I got Cornlips to play him and avenge us. There was no money involved as I recall, just bragging rights that wouldn't be Don's. She beat him pretty good. We were walking out of the bar, slapping her on the back and lauding her while we trashed Don. Cornlips began to cry. "You guys treat me like one of the guys!" she cried. Well, yeah. "Well, I'm not! I'm a girl!" Well, yeah. WHAT was the problem? I put my arm around her and consoled her, but I didn't know what the hell I could do about it. Our other girls weren't like that with us. They were our friends. Most were married anyway or otherwise coupled up. 

Cornlips was a different girl. A bit rough around the edges. She was from somewhere down south (though not heavily accented) and just different. She had told me her daddy had done time for shooting at cars back home so, yeah, he was crazy. I don't know why, but that story just rolled off my back when she told me, and I had yet to live in Tennessee where such happenstances are aplenty. At least back then, I never expected complete normalcy from people. Everybody is a little fucked up. Can't hold that against them. 

As it happened, my plan to rent a place with Greek Steve had fallen though when, after I converted a 4-bedroom apartment his dad owned into two, 2-bedrooms, Steve suddenly decided he was going to stay living with his folks instead of renting with me. I felt a little duped by Steve's family when this happened right after I completed the remodeling. I hadn't done much- just built a wall in the hallway and a closet in one bedroom to meet code. But it was free labor as I recall. I was still welcome to rent the 2 bedrooms... Well, that was more than I needed or wanted to spend. Plus, I was a bit miffed still, though admittedly, Steve might have been a bad roommate. Greek Steve was a fat guy who loved spicy Greek food and could really stink up a bathroom. Don't light a match and all that. Perhaps it was for the better. 

Sometime after that, Cornlips told me she was being evicted from her place. I still don't know what made me think this was a good idea, but I thought we ought to get a place together. She smelled better than Steve. We found a really nice 2-bedroom, 2-bath about 25 minutes down the road. Seemed like a lot of happy personal space for both of us separately. Separate bathrooms are the key to any successful relationship, romantic or not. IShe had no money for the deposit or first month, but I did! 

I was a cool guy with a waterbed there in the 80's and got mine set up and filled right away. She dallied with whatever set up she had and a few nights later, she knocked on my door, explained her bed was still not set up, and could she sleep with me? To better sell her point, she was wearing a nightie. Well, I told her I didn't think that was a good idea. If she could tough it out one more night with the mattress on the floor, I'd put her bed together in the morning. I'm a problem solver, you might remember. 

She was disappointed in my solution though. The climate got very chilly in the apartment. Refusing my help, she put her own damn bed together. I was beginning to realize that I had fucked up and I was pretty sure I knew how I had done that. I guess I should have put out? Taken one for Team Ferrerman to appease Team Cornlips. 

Well, no. Honestly, I don't work that way and why should I? Just because I got a dick? If women are going to be free to make their own choices, men should be too. It's very republican thinking to believe that one side loses freedom when the other gains theirs. 

Cornlips last straw came about when I revealed that I was about $20 shy of my share of the rent that month. I could easily make that up next shift with tips. She was not happy with that. Next thing I knew, there was a local cop at the door. He advised me that we could do things the easy way or the hard way. I was incredulous. There wasn't a goddamn legal process happening that day. My name was on the lease, and he had no legal standing to muscle me out of my home. It occurred to me that if he did, he might not be a cop in that town for much longer. This was not at all legal on any level. So, call his bluff and maybe take a lucrative beating, or just cut losses. In those days I'd have to say I was only slightly smarter than the next guy, assuming that next guy wasn't a complete idiot. I got more than my two cents worth of harsh talk towards the cop and rather enjoyed that. Sometimes you can push them a little further when they themselves are breaking the rules. Don't try those stunts at home though, with just any cop. 

So, I left. Downstairs as I entered the 7-11 to call a friend, I ran into the landlord. I asked him what he had known about this. "I don't want any trouble" the old guy said, "all I know is your name is not on the lease anymore!" And how the fuck did that happen without my participation? He didn't want any trouble. Weird how it was somehow beyond his control. Some landlord. I think he was new to landlording.  There may not have been handwriting on any legal paperwork, but it was written on the wall. I had no future there. Damn shame as it was a nice place Greek Steve could have lived there and had his own bathroom to stink up!

Somehow, Cornlips decided that I was only due half the deposit (though I had put up the whole thing) and ultimately, I was surprised I even got that considering a better whackjob could have held out until the end of the lease, 11 some months away. She wound up fucking me after all, I guess! Was it good for her too? Kind of doubt it. She wound up getting bounced from there within a few months as well as she couldn't afford the place. And I went on an adventure to New Orleans. It worked out. Decades later, I've long since given up on any hard feelings towards her. It was a weird, stupid situation, and one that I could have handled better by not getting into it in the first place. People have to be on the same page whether friends or lovers. Lines of demarcation and all that, must be laid out, respected, and hopefully not crossed. It's better that way.