🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially 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 different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially 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 different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.