🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass 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 while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version 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 activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass 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 while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version 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 activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.