🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop One Way, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.