🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight 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 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 knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return 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 apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight 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 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 knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return 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 apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.