🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency 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 time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits 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 impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly 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 imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency 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 time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits 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 impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly 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 imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.