🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps 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 chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through 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 styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps 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 chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through 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 styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.