Idling over a prosecco at a recent wedding reception, I found myself chatting with a young woman who was keen to pursue a career in the media.

Charming and engaged, she asked thoughtful questions about my work as a journalist that I was only too happy to answer.

After a short while, the husband of a friend drifted over to join our conversation.

Except he didn’t so much join the discussion as elbow his way into it, opening with a crass: ‘Oh dear, is Angela boring you with her career stories?’

Having explained I’d been approached for some advice, he continued to make little digs and sly asides such as, ‘That article about how much women spend on shoes was hardly Watergate.’

Fortunately, a well-timed call for dinner brought the episode to an abrupt close.

How did I feel afterwards?

Well, certainly not intimidated given he was a standard issue middle-aged man, all bulging paunch, shiny forehead and rumpled suit.

Nor did I think he was being sexist or a bully. Frankly, he was just being a bitch.

Yes, you read that correctly.

We tend to think of bitchiness as a female trait, when jealous or insecure women use sugar-coated barbs to put someone else – usually another woman – down, either to their face or behind their back.

Yet increasingly I find myself encountering older men behaving in the same way. Not by leaning into the camp theatrics of, say, Graham Norton’s Eurovision commentary or Stanford Blatch in Sex And The City.

No, these are otherwise staid, middle-aged blokes who, with exaggerated eye rolls, faux innocence or plain snarkiness, are now plumbing the playbook of the female bitch.

It’s not that men have suddenly become mean in middle age – men of all ages can be rude – but their malice has been repackaged and feels quite different to how it was when I was a teenager 40 years ago.

Back then, comments were blunt and unapologetic – be it calling someone ‘thick’ or saying their perfume ‘stinks’.

Now, aggression has become passive – and having discussed this with my female friends we all agree midlife male cattiness has become more noticeable.

And it’s often directed at women who are self-assured or successful.

One friend recalled being at a dinner party when the conversation turned to her promotion. As she held the floor answering questions about her new job, a man began whispering theatrically to his wife. In doing so he was signalling to the group that my friend wasn’t especially interesting, while also intending to throw her off her stride.

Such incidents have the same petty quality I used to associate with mean girls at school.

Male bitchiness can be demonstrated in more subtle ways too, through cliquey and snide social manoeuvring. Namely the kind of social filtering associated with women’s circles, for example being left out of plans.

Recently a friend was upset to discover she and her partner hadn’t been invited to a charity event organised by a man in their crowd. He made a calculated decision to include newer, more influential friends instead.

I’ve also heard middle-aged men bitching about women behind their backs. Usually starting observations with ‘I don’t want to be unkind but…’

Some women I know admit their husbands are ‘such gossips these days’, initiating conversations once dismissed as ‘women’s talk’.

So what’s making middle-aged men so bitchy?

Principally it’s the same forces that drive it in women: insecurity, petty jealousy, disappointment and the need to feel better by undermining others.

A middle-aged man ticks a lot of those boxes. When a chap gets to his 50s and beyond, it’s likely he’s starting to feel irrelevant. He may feel insecure about not having progressed far in his career. Maybe he’s jealous he’s not already enjoying a comfortable retirement like some of his friends.

Perhaps he’s mourning the loss of his hair or the expansion of his gut. If children have flown the nest and his partner works full time then his role as provider and protector has gone too. No wonder successful women pose such a threat.

Most of all, middle-aged men have noticed that the playful cruelty long associated with some female social dynamics offers a way to assert themselves without facing charges of aggressive or sexist behaviour.

No longer (quite rightly) can men make remarks such as ‘typical woman, such a drama queen’ or ‘she’s so bloody emotional’, so they find subtler ways to make the point.

As for how to deal with it, ideally the best response is to ignore it or walk away.

Or my preferred trick: redirection. Like pointing out, as I did to one man who was indulging in some performative put-downs, that his fly was undone.

It wasn’t, of course. I was just being a bitch.