🔗 Share this article Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. 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 presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be 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 open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made 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 naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding 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 low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through 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 comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. 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 presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be 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 open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made 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 naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding 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 low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through 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 comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.