🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It is healthy 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 propensity to pass 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 could 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 typically 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 empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is healthy 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 propensity to pass 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 could 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 typically 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 empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.