🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from 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 predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from 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 predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.