🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to pass 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 while? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient 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 directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing 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? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to pass 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 while? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient 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 directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing 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? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.