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I might have known I was headed into the mouth of hell when Abe offered to buy me a round-trip ticket to Memphis, Tennessee on a Greyhound bus.

We had not been dating very long, and it seemed like a perfect way to get to know each other better. Besides, I had never been to Memphis and was eager to see some historic landmarks like Beale Street, the birthplace of Alex Haley and Graceland.

He was very prompt picking me up at the station. We exchanged a light kiss, he put my bag in his trunk and we took off for the hotel.

To be honest, I wasn't expecting the Hilton. I was more interested in seeing Memphis and getting to know him a little better. We had talked about the kinds of foods I eat (not too much grease, no red meat, no pork) and the fact that I thought it was a little too soon to meet his mother. I had been floored when he suggested it, since we were still in an early stage.

When the car turned onto the parking lot of the Econo Lodge, I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from gasping out loud. Every Econo Lodge I had ever visited was a dump, and this one was no different. I decided as soon as we walked into that musty room that I would probably sleep in my clothes.

Abe offered to take me to a nearby Popeye's Chicken and Biscuits for greasy fried chicken that I didn't normally eat. I was too tired and too hungry to argue. I ordered some fries and called it a night.

Back at the hotel, he couldn't wait to slide under the covers with me. He immediately grew an extra set of hands, it seemed, and was very determined to make me change my mind about how far I wanted to go with him. After two firm "No's" from me, I decided to look him in his eyes and tell him I was not going to change my mind. He turned over and was snoring within five minutes.

The next day, I was excited at the chance to finally see more of Memphis. Abe had another plan, though. Before our day got started, he took me to another grease pit called The American Kettle. Its rugged blue and yellow saloon-like exterior almost made me lose my appetite, but I soldiered on, thinking things couldn't get any worse.

Inside, the gum-popping waitress seated us at a table whose Formica top was chipped around the edges, revealing dingy particle board. I was almost queasy from the smell of bacon in the air and kept trying to fan away the pesky gnats that seemed to teem at our booth.

Abe ordered a hearty breakfast and then looked at me to ask what I wanted. "Nothing," I said.

"You haven't eaten anything. You should order

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