🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy 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 hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model 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 idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy 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 hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model 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 idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.