🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Female Relationships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired 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 encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised 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 anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired 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 encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised 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 anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.