🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty 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 refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly 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 preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty 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 refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly 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 preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.