🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.