🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly 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 version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly 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 version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.