🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, 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? 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 typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. 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 everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, 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? 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 typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. 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 everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.