Sure.

"I'll explain in the car." I told her. She looked at me quizzically and I realized she hadn't connected the dots. She thought I meant I had some explanation for the homeless man's behavior. We got into her car and put the leftovers in the backseat. As she started the engine and shifted into drive, I tried to walk her through my theory without sounding completely unhinged.

"I think I know what's happening. It sounds crazy, but it's the best explanation I can think of. It seems like everyone's treating me the way they expect me to treat them. Think about all of the people I've dealt with today. The cashier tried to give me his order, then the waiter didn't know what to do with my food. The homeless man wouldn't accept my food - he actually turned his nose up at it. Then there's our bosses, both of whom gave us the day off as soon as I asked for it."

I was studying her face as I spoke, trying to gauge her reaction. She was obviously having a hard time taking it in, but I took it as good sign that she didn't scoff or laugh at any point.

"So you think people are treating you the way you want to be treated? Is that it?" She glanced over and I couldn't read her face.

"Not exactly." I said. "It's more like our roles are reversed. Like the cashier trying to order from me. He wasn't treating me like I want to be treated. He was acting like he was the customer and I was ringing him up. Or the homeless man - he acted the way I would if a homeless person came up to me and tried to give me a box of food."

A moment of silence followed as Sarah tried to digest what I'd said. Finally, she spoke. "If that's true," she asked, "then why aren't I treating you any differently?"

I had anticipated this reaction and wanted to treat the topic very delicately. "Sarah, bear with me for a second. Earlier you said you liked my brown eyes. You seemed to have trouble articulating that. Can you think about why?"

As she did earlier, she furrowed her brow as if trying to work out a puzzle. "Well, you- I mean, you don't have brown eyes. But I like your brown eyes! But your- you-" She stammered a bit more. "You just-"

I tried to help her through it. "Ok, let's work this out. I don't have brown eyes. You have brown eyes. Everyone is acting like our roles are reversed. So if you like my brown eyes, then that means..."

She gasped as it struck her. "We reversed roles! I'm feeling toward you the way you feel toward me!"

This was the moment I had been dreading. Would she be pissed off? Would she think I took advantage of her? I once again scanned her face anxiously, looking for any sign that she was about to freak out.

She took an excruciatingly long time to follow up. She was clearly thinking very hard about it. I was tempted to say something, but I held my tongue and let her work it out. Finally she turned to me with an unreadable expression.

"So, you're telling me that everything I'm feeling toward you now- that's how you feel about me?" I nodded nervously, waiting for her to continue. She looked me over, sizing up my body.

"You seem... perfect. You're beautiful. But you're also... not? I'm struggling with this, Ron. It's like I have this idea in my head about you and it doesn't match what I see, but that doesn't make the idea go away. Like we discussed earlier, you have perfect tits. Incredible tits. And my God, that ass! But you- I can see that you don't. And besides, I'm straight. I don't care about tits. Except for yours! I wanna bury my face in them! I wanna-" She paused. "These are all things you want to do to me. How long have you felt this way?"

"Since the day we met," I stammered nervously.

"I can't- it's like two voices arguing in my head. God, you're so hot and smart and funny! I know I only see you that way because you think that about me, but just knowing you feel that way makes my stomach flutter. I just, I don't know, are you out of my league? Am I out of yours? Can I-"

On impulse, I silenced her with a kiss. We were at a red light so just darted forward and locked my lips with hers. I didn't even think about it, I just did it.

Sarah was stunned for a second, but then responded with a sigh. She closed her eyes and softened her lips, greedily accepting my tongue into her mouth. She took one hand off the wheel and put it on my chest as I place a hand on her knee and slowly slid it up her thigh. It was intimate, joyful, and relieved all of the pent-up tension of our conversation.

Then we were interrupted by a loud honk. We parted lips and Sarah returned her eyes to the road, but not before flashing me a grateful smile.