🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent 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 mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent 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 mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.