🔗 Share this article Male Connections Evolve One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's good to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.