The other thing that’s changed is that these days I always call it out when I see it. Perhaps any putative he-peater is put off by the idea that he could appear in my column. Perhaps I’ve started having dinner with fewer sexists. Thankfully, it’s begun to happen less to me. A he-peater will take an idea, an answer or a strategy outlined by a woman and repeat it in a louder voice and get all the credit. It happens in offices, boardrooms and schools across the country. And yet there is a sense, isn’t there, in which women denying their own voice so that men can have theirs has created an environment of toxic male entitlement?īecause he-peating isn’t the sole preserve of a matey dinner table. Of course, I’m not suggesting that a he-peater is in the same category as a sexual offender or murderer. And the papers have, sadly, been full of unedifying cases of angry men taking it out on women, with terrible and sometimes fatal consequences. My he-peating ex was often given to squalls of unpredictable rage, which I spent a lot of futile time trying to anticipate and avoid. If you think I’m losing a sense of proportion here, rest assured that I know what I’m talking about. Women are afraid that men will kill them.’ It reminded me of that Margaret Atwood quote: ‘Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. My friend and fellow writer Caroline O’Donoghue said to me recently that she suspected the reason so many women are labelled ‘passive aggressive’ is because our real fury has had to be diverted away from its intended target for fear of provoking male rage. Don’t kick up a fuss in case you trigger a man’s anger and that anger is directed at you. Many women of a certain age have been conditioned to act in this way: keep the peace at all costs. He’d repeat what I said then be applauded for it There I was, seeking to mitigate his discomfort while ignoring my own so as not to create a scene. If he reads this, he’ll recognise himself immediately because it got so bad that I began to pick him up on it – politely, of course, and under my breath so as not to embarrass him. There was one particular ex who did it to me all the time. And I would sit there, silently seething over my chicken paillard.

He’d be loudly applauded for his humour and quick wit. He’d be greeted with a guffawing round of appreciative laughter. Then, a few seconds later, a man – and it was always a man – would repeat exactly the same joke I’d made. No one seemed to hear me, even though I was sure it was a pretty good joke. We would order food and exchange gossip and thoughts on the latest events, and at some point during these interactions, I might make a joke. I would be at dinner with a group of men and women. In my 20s and 30s, I noticed a peculiar cultural phenomenon. Hair: Sven Bayerbach at Carol Hayes management using Drybar.

Sims 4 abusive mod