🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.