🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent 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 closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let 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 value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent 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 closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let 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 value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.