🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend 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 asked 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 deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse 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 benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, 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 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 brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly 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 mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend 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 asked 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 deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse 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 benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, 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 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 brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly 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 mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.