🔗 Share this article Male Connections Develop Differently, Female Relationships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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? Why haven't they asked 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 encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.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 mean it lacks significance. Maybe 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 also appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, 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 someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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? Why haven't they asked 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 encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," 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 mean it lacks significance. Maybe 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 also appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, 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 someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.