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Myself am hungry for insights from people on dealing with midlife challenges, including existential reckonings, waning significance, noticing one’s neck akin to a surrealist painting and a newfound passion regarding sunny relocation programs. Recently, I discovered the chef’s comments on turning 50 via a discussion: “To thrive in life’s later stages, you must cut out distractions,” he explained. “Spend time with positive individuals. I steer clear of downbeat types – ‘energy vampires’ – and am learning to decline more often.”

Initially, I wondered: doesn’t this conflict between “avoiding negative people” and “getting better at saying no”? 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. However, among our group, we favor the term “energy drainer”. 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”.

It’s possible you’re also a member. Are you often the gathering’s pragmatist instead of its enthusiast? Does your detailed response to “How are you?” have your interlocutor edging away uncomfortably? 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. 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. You don’t get that sort of service from “lovely people”.