🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.