🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Form Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient 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 study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to 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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let 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 likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient 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 study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to 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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let 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 likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.