🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Female Relationships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per 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 impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly 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 imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return 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 perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not the ideal 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 simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per 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 impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly 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 imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return 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 perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not the ideal 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 simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.