I’m so in love that . . .

I worry when my partner doesn’t pick up the phone, or call me, at prearranged times.

We speak on the phone twice a day during the week — once in the morning at a specific time, once at night. She calls me in the morning, and I call her in the evening. This is our routine.

Of course, we spend our weekends and vacations together, but we haven’t moved in with each other yet — which disproves the “What do lesbians do on the second date?” joke.

So, we’re still very much in the honeymoon stage, or as another female friend calls it, “the stupid period.”

I suppose I am afraid of suddenly losing her, as happened with my last partner, who died unexpectedly on a night I called and called and called . . .

Tonight, I called and called and called while imagining — and remembering — the worst. Then Maggie called me — she had dozed off on the sofa while watching TV. I think she is still recovering from her office Christmas party last Friday night.

“I was worried about you,” I told her.

“I know,” she said. “I worry when I can’t reach you, too.”

Such is love . . .