🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.