🔗 Share this article Male Connections Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per 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 heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged 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 hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked 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 obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per 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 heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged 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 hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked 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 obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.