Recently, I was able to attend the fantastic Camden Classic Cup afterparty — following a little bit of confusion, of course.

I got tickets to attend the event July 14. Because I did not really look at the date closely, I assumed it was that weekend, July 17.

I found a guest to attend with me. We dressed up and arrived at Lyman Morse to discover… nothing. The parking lot was empty. There was nobody around.

We drove up and down the street for a while and then pulled over while I double-checked the street address. That was when I noticed the date for the event was July 31. Not for two more weeks.

Oh.

My friend and I went out to dinner at Oliver’s Bistro in Camden instead, which was lovely. We were a bit overdressed for the bistro in our “snappy casual” attire, but the dinner was delicious and it was good to catch up on each other’s lives.

This is not the first time something like this happened, and I am sure it will not be the last.

I keep a planner where I write down all my events and happenings. Even with that, I still sometimes get dates mixed up.

I get in my car and drive somewhere only to realize whatever I am driving to is not happening that day.

I have a similar problem with remembering directions, daily tasks and small responsibilities.

Last year, at this time, I went camping in Auburn with friends. On the drive home, my GPS glitched and I missed my turn off the highway. I ended up driving an extra three hours. At no point did I realize I was driving further and further away from home until it was much too late.

My family has multiple stories about my lack of direction. The invention of the GPS was a godsend for me, and I use it all the time, sometimes for things I really should not have to use it for.

I assume the directions and dates thing are both related, and that it has something to do with how my brain is wired.

I am not exactly neurodivergent. I do not have full blown ADHD or some other medical issue.

I do have just enough of a problem that I have learned to use tips and tricks to get through my life.

Without the GPS I will not pay enough attention to my driving to get where I need to go. Without the date book (and sometimes even with it) I forget upcoming events, appointments and deadlines.

I regularly lose my glasses, my keys and my phone because I put them down and forget where.

I have extra pairs of glasses for those times when I absolutely cannot find them (plus, it is hard to find glasses when you are not wearing them). I have a smart program that can call my phone for me. I try to keep my keys in the same place, but sometimes I just need to search everywhere for them or take my spare.

Cue July 31 and the actual Camden Classic Cup afterparty. I attended this event with a different friend this time.

I’ve known Justin for years. Our friendship is casual and comfortable without any “When Harry Met Sally,” with the mindset of “can men and women be just friends?” nonsense. Yes we can, and yes we are.

This is the same friend who attended the Blues Festival Club Crawl with me.

The Larry Williams band was fantastic. The food and drinks from Stone Cove Catering were outstanding.

There were a lot of people when we arrived. Getting the drinks and food involved navigating around dozens of them.

After a couple hours, the crowd swelled even further. My friend and I found a quiet corner to sit, talk and eat. We made a few passes through the crowd, got more food and drinks, then decided we were ready to leave.

I wrote in an earlier column about my extroverted and introverted tendencies. None of these things are anxiety, it is just a level of comfort being around other people.

Making phone calls is similar. I do not get feelings of anxiety around phone calls, though some people do. Phone calls, for me, just have the potential to be awkward.

In my 20s, a former boss used to listen to me make phone calls to customers and after would always comment on how dismally it had gone. I never knew what to say. I never knew the right way to say it. Especially leaving a message on an answering machine.

There is a clip from the show “Schitt’s Creek,” where main character David Rose makes a series of increasingly awkward phone calls to someone, leaving long and mixed-up voicemails each time. He calls the other person by the wrong name. He rambles. He gets cut off in the middle of his message. He calls back and leaves another. This continues.

Making phone calls, for me, is often like that. If I do not know the person, I may not know what to say or how to say it. I have improved since my 20s, at least. Almost 90% of my phone calls are normal thanks to an internal script I developed.

Most of the time, I can even pass as a regular person.