🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.