🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female 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 personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female 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 personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.