🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.