🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked 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 deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point 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—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger 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 vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly 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: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked 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 deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point 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—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger 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 vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly 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: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.