🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Friendships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass 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 while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness 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 stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly 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 idea 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass 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 while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness 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 stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly 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 idea 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.