Mr. iPod

Every day, I cross paths with Mr. iPod. 
He's 5 foot 11, with short dark hair and dark eyes. 

And every day on my way to my mother's or the bank or the grocery, I always seem to see him. He's heading for the bus that goes to the university and I'm heading the other side of the street. We always seem to cross the street at the same time.

He never smiles at me. No head nod that most people in polite society give when they realize they've crossed your path before. 
No, Mr. iPod always ducks his eyes just as we cross each other's path on the corner. 

Today, I turned for an extra few seconds to look, sort of hoping to catch him looking back.  No such luck.  As Mr. iPod was turned towards the church fairly drooling over a stick skinny 4 foot nothing girl in very tight jeans and 6 inch shag me heeled boots who was cutting across the parking lot. 

I'm starting to think I really am cursed.