🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, 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 with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing 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 more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, 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 with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing 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 more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.