Some men just adore humiliating successful women. I know - I've lived with one

The way Charles Saatchi announced his divorce shows how calculating he is

But it's typical of a certain kind of man who craves control



Controlling: Charles Saatchi is typical of the sort of man who has to have the last word

The last thing Nigella Lawson would have expected when she picked up the Sunday newspapers last weekend was to read that her husband of ten years was filing for divorce.



Charles Saatchi chose to announce the end of their marriage in the coldest and most calculating of ways.



Each word of his statement made me shiver in recognition. This was the valedictory missive of a controlling man prepared to sacrifice everything just to have the last word.



It's only a month since Nigella suffered the very public humiliation of being photographed with her husband's hands around her throat. Everyone was shocked. How could such a strong, beautiful, hugely successful woman let herself be treated that way?



When I read the Mail on Sunday headline 'Saatchi: I'm Divorcing You, Nigella', I was hit by a sense of sick dread.



Why? Because I, too, have suffered the grave misfortune of falling in love with more than one such control freak in my lifetime.



There is a misconception that controlling men seek out plain, meek women. But in my experience, that is not the case. There is, after all, no sport in leading a lamb to slaughter.



No, the challenge for such men is to bring a successful woman down from a great height. That's real power; complete domination.



Such men are seductive creatures, shrewdly camouflaging their real character in the beginning, showering you with love so you feel you are the centre of their universe.



But then the subtle changes start. There's the carping about the little things, the looks of disappointment, the casually cruel comments about the way you look or gentle criticism of your work, all of which chip away at your self-confidence.



Take the behaviour of my ex, Mark, a journalist. I was with him for five years after we met in our late 20s and still wince when I remember how he could turn a compliment into a devastating blow.

One evening, for example, after a long day at work, I hurriedly changed in the office loo into a beautiful dress I had bought specially for a party he was hosting.



When I arrived, he was sitting on a bar stool surrounded by colleagues. He beckoned me over with a crook of his little finger. With all of them watching, he leant forward and kissed me on the forehead.



'Look at you, darling!' he said admiringly, then whispered: 'That dress does nothing to disguise your bottom, but I love you.'



There you have the control freak's sinister double whammy: insult then compliment; knock you down then help you up.



Trophy wife: Charles probably regarded Nigella as his prize exhibit - until he felt she was neglecting him for her career

I shudder to this day at the memory of it, and the way he started to begin every sentence with: 'The problem with you, Amanda, is…'



A hundred things could ignite his ire: the way I'd cooked dinner, the fact I'd forgotten to pick up his dry-cleaning, or his belief that I didn't pay him enough attention when we went out together. Increasingly, his underlying theme was that he felt I was putting my work before him.



I suspect Nigella, 53, found herself in the same situation. Those who know 70-year-old Saatchi say he is a control freak who could not stomach Nigella's success.



He is infamous for the way he seeks to arrange everyone and everything around him as though they were exhibits in one of his minimalist art galleries. Nigella - for a while at least - was the prize exhibit.



I had first-hand experience of his controlling ways when, in the 1980s, I was marketing director of a major newspaper group and his company, Saatchi & Saatchi, was our advertising agency.



Always dressed immaculately in a black suit and white shirt, Saatchi was one of the coldest men I have ever met. He didn't suffer fools gladly, and to him, almost everyone was a fool.



We can only speculate what had been going on in their marriage prior to that humiliating, brutish scene in the restaurant. My guess would be that, just like my own relationship with Mark, their problems began had begun many years before.



At the beginning, Mark loved having a trophy girlfriend and relished the fact that people recognised me in the street.



In the end, though, he perceived my work as a threat: it made me neglect him, he said. It was only by constantly putting me down that he felt he was able to control me and stop me doing the thing he most feared - leaving him. Which, of course, I eventually did.



Happier days: The couple dining at Scott's restaurant, the same place where Charles would infamously grab Nigella's throat, precipitating their divorce

What's so ironic is that controllers end up hating the strong, successful woman to whom they were once so drawn.



A friend of Nigella's has admitted: 'Charles never liked her being famous. He used to cringe if people came up when they were having a meal. It didn't suit his ego to be seen as Mr Nigella Lawson.'



When I read that I almost wept, recalling my ex's reaction when he was sometimes introduced as 'Mr Platell'. It was as though he'd been castrated on the spot.



After our separation, he told me: 'I just got sick of living in your shadow.' I wanted to scream back: 'Then try casting one of your own!'



To my surprise and shame, I seldom fought back during the relationship. I never said: 'Forget my bum, look at the size of your gut.'



I never mentioned the fact that he was stagnating in his career as he criticised the choices I made in mine. Not once did I berate him for not lifting a finger to help in the house, even though I paid the mortgage.



My behaviour is, I think, typical of many so-called strong career women. Yes, we can make tough decisions in the workplace, but at home we just seek peace and companionship.



We enter the fray each day at work, so it's the last thing we want at home. Nigella's friends say she became the 'ultimate pacifier', wary of her husband's moods and temper.



Oh, how I can relate to that. When you're with a control freak, you feel you are walking on eggshells, always trying to second-guess him.







' Now I'm in my 50s. I have well-honed radar against such men and try to seek out those who are kind and considerate. I can only hope Nigella learns from her experiences in the same way.'







Like many successful men, Saatchi was drawn to a remarkable and beautiful woman. Most men would love nothing more than to be married to one of the country's best cooks, yet Saatchi never forgot to mention that he didn't like her cooking and preferred cheese on toast.



The controller turns every situation into a new opportunity to abase their victim - as Saatchi did when confronted by photos taken at Scott's restaurant appearing to show him restraining his wife by pushing on the base of her nose.



In fact, he insisted, he was cleaning her face as one might a child's. 'Even domestic goddesses sometimes have a bit of snot,' he said, humiliatingly.



He never went to parties, so his wife often went alone, corseted in Vivienne Westwood and looking splendid but sadly alone. The message seemed to be that her silly superficial world was not engaging enough for him.



Another ex of mine, a businessman I dated in my late 30s and almost married, used the same ploy. He refused to go out with me and my friends, dismissing them as 'boring' sycophants who were only interested in the fact that I was well-known.



It was his way of trying to cut me off from those I was closest to. Thankfully, it didn't work.



It takes time and experience to spot the tricks of the controller, and another of my exes eventually revealed himself as one such. The first time I got a big promotion and wanted him to celebrate with me and my workmates, he said he was so ill he had to go to hospital.



I rushed home, as he knew I would, only to find him watching TV, saying he was feeling a little better.

That pattern of mystery illnesses repeated itself again and again.



But as well as playing games with my good nature, this man exploited my insecurities. Even when I was slim, he'd pat my tummy in a seemingly loving way and say: 'Could lose a few pounds there, couldn't we?'



Hurtful: Saatchi never forgot to mention he didn't like Nigella's cooking and preferred cheese on toast

Most shockingly, after I'd had a major operation, lost 2st and was skeletal, he hugged me in front of my friends and said: 'Finally she's got her figure back.'



When I finally left him, he told friends I'd gone mad and left the country. As with Saatchi, he was desperate to have the last word on the relationship. He even called my friends and said I'd become delusional and was in America with a new boyfriend.



It was all untrue. One of my more savvy friends emailed him, copying me and my friends into it, saying: 'That's funny, I've just had lunch with Amanda in Chelsea.'



Now I'm in my 50s. I have well-honed radar against such men and try to seek out those who are kind and considerate. I can only hope Nigella learns from her experiences in the same way.



Any bruises on Nigella's throat will have healed by now, though I suspect those in her heart will linger.