🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, as per 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 historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion 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 seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe 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, 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 beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, as per 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 historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion 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 seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe 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, 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 beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.