🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on 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 This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. 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 solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on 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 states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. 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 solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.