🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop Differently, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent 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 found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent 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 found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.