🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.