🔗 Share this article Male Connections Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year 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 built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to 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 mean it lacks significance. 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 presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year 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 built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to 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 mean it lacks significance. 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 presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.