🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop Differently, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly 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 version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club 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 horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly 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 version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club 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 horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.