🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what 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 with no insight about the significant events 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong 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 developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what 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 with no insight about the significant events 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong 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 developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.