🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong 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 impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year 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 centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing 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 surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong 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 impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year 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 centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing 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 surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.