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I seek out advice from those regarding managing life’s midpoint hurdles, for example existential reckonings, fading relevance, developing a neck like a Salvador Dalí clock along with a recent enthusiasm regarding sunny relocation programs. Most recently, I discovered his remarks on turning 50 via a discussion: “Trimming unnecessary clutter is key to enjoying your later years,” he noted. “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? Might that suggest he must escape his own nature? I know – it’s exactly the kind of thing a mood hoover would say, and that’s because I am one. Yet, we gloomy souls like to call ourselves “vibe suckers”. 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”.

Perhaps you’re one too. Are you often the gathering’s pragmatist instead of its enthusiast? 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 strongly identify with Eeyore; has a psychic ever told you your aura is grey?

Should this ring true, welcome to the club, and it’s fine. 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. Such critical insights aren’t typical from “positive” friends.