🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," 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 clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. 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 verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," 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 clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. 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 verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.