🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass 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 time? How come they didn'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 understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass 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 time? How come they didn'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 understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.