🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong 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 bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: 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 vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong 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 bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: 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 vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.