🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Form One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; 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 chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.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 argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply 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 company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; 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 chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. 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 argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply 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 company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.