🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass 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 while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass 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 while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.