🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.