🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men Into 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 habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave 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. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing 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 deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective 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 habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave 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. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing 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 deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.