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I seek out advice from those on dealing with midlife challenges, such as deep inner questions, diminishing importance, growing a neck like a Salvador Dalí clock plus a fresh interest regarding sunny relocation programs. Lately, I came across his remarks on turning 50 during a chat: “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 this contradictory between “avoiding negative people” and “getting better at saying no”? Might that suggest he must escape his own nature? I get it – such remarks define us negative types, and yes, I’m one of them. Although in our community we actually prefer the expression “energy vampire”. Please avoid “wet blanket” or “fun sponge” too – all this comparing us to utilitarian household items is offensive; we have feelings (albeit mainly negative ones). In a bind, I might tolerate “melancholy luxury blanket”.

It’s possible you’re also a member. Are you less the life and soul of the party and more its accountant or undertaker? Does your thorough reply to casual greetings make people step back nervously? Do proposed “enjoyable” plans trigger a visage akin to having ingested something unpleasant? 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. Although modern wisdom pushes folks to discard “sapping” companions, I contend we bring substantial worth. 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. That level of honest feedback is rare among “upbeat” individuals.