🔗 Share this article Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.