🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly 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 underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly 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 underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.