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OK, I admit it.

I’ve been playing a lot of Words With Friends lately.

Quite a lot, actually.

So much so, my wife, Michele, is beginning to think I’m obsessed with the online game, and I’m thinking she may be right.

For those of you who aren’t in the know, Words With Friends is a Scrabblelike game played on computers and smartphones. Because it’s so portable, you can play while you are riding the elevator, using the commode, waiting in line at the grocery store or sitting at the dinner table, but only if your teenagers will leave you alone long enough.

And unlike in Tetris, Solitaire, Free Cell or other addicting computer games, in Words With Friends you aren’t playing some faceless computer. Instead, you match wits against your old college roommate, for example, or that cousin of yours with the master’s degree who thinks he’s such a smarty-pants.

And as if that’s not enough, imagine that you can send your opponent taunting messages during the game, like when you play h-a-p-l-e-s-s across a double-word-score with the “a” matching up to form the word “agaze” for 97 points. In my experience, it is perfectly acceptable to send your opponent this message:“Whhooo-ahhhh!!!!”

In the beginning, my wife and I played only against each other. She won a few, and I won a few. Ours was a friendly, social game between two people who love each other. We congratulated each other on notable or particularly skillful moves.

This went on for a few months, and she and I played breezily back and forth. But that all changed when my college roommate challenged me to a game.

I accepted, texting him back, “Game on!”

He and I have always been competitive, and I just couldn’t bear to lose to him. I sat sweating, pecking on my phone trying 10 and sometimes 20 different combinations of letters.

One evening not long after, Michele noticed I was frowning furiously at my phone.

“Who are you playing with?” Michele asked with raised eyebrows.

“Uhhh, Chris,” I said, feeling strangely uneasy, as if she were accusing me of cheating on her. From there, more and more people asked me to play, and I haven’t been able to say no.

And I can’t bear to lose.

This is embarrassing, but my first clue that I had a problem was that — in a strange reversal of roles — my teenage daughter told me to put away my cellphone at the dinner table and invited me to join the conversation.

I have lost sleep.

As I lie there in bed, my inner voice says, “He thinks he’s so smart adding an 's’ to the word “neon” for 38 points. Who’s ever heard of the word neon being plural?”

And so I lie awake thinking of how I can use the word “neons” in a sentence.

The truth is, I can’t remember playing a more addicting game. Well, it’s not just one game. I’m actually playing seven different people at once.

My wife finally said, “I don’t like playing with you anymore,” to which I responded, “Is it because I play for blood?”

Even now, I’m thinking “blood” — that’s 8 points.

Maybe I am obsessed.

O-b-s-e-s-s-e-d — 12 points.

Or even better, h-o-o-k-e-d is 13 points.

Contact Mac Lane at maclane@northstate.net