🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car 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 Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car 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 Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.