🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion 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 reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion 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 reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.