🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop Differently, Female Relationships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.