🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit 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 could 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we 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 until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially 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 underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because 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 also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit 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 could 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we 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 until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially 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 underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because 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 also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.