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Myself crave insights from people on dealing with middle-aged struggles, including existential reckonings, diminishing importance, developing a neck resembling a melted timepiece along with a recent enthusiasm regarding sunny relocation programs. Lately, I came across his remarks regarding his fiftieth birthday via a discussion: “To thrive in life’s later stages, you must cut out distractions,” he explained. “Just be with lovely people. I’m avoiding negative people – ‘mood hoovers’ – and getting better at saying no.”

At first, I pondered: isn’t there a tension about evading pessimists and honing one’s rejection skills? Doesn’t that mean he has to avoid himself? I know – it’s exactly the kind of thing a mood hoover would say, and that’s because I am one. Although in our community we actually prefer the expression “energy vampire”. Steer clear of labels like “killjoy” or “buzzkill” – equating us to mundane objects hurts; we do experience emotions (even if they’re mostly bleak). In a bind, I might tolerate “melancholy luxury blanket”.

Maybe you belong to this group as well. Do you tend to be the event’s realist rather than its cheerleader? Does your thorough reply to casual greetings make people step back nervously? Upon hearing “exciting” ideas, do you make a face as if you’ve tasted something vile? Do you see yourself in gloomy figures; has a spiritual reader mentioned your vibe is murky?

If so, you’re one of us, but it’s OK. Despite a whole self-help-inspired trend urging people to get rid of friends who “drain” them, I’d argue we offer real value. I reckon a mood hoover would have said something discouraging – or at least made a slug-swallowing face – when Jamie described his plan to write a kids’ book with an Australian First Nation main character without consulting Indigenous communities, which could have prevented a whole lot of problems, upset and offence. Such critical insights aren’t typical from “positive” friends.