🔗 Share this article Male Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.