🔗 Share this article Male Connections Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity 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 might 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 own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. 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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing 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 most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity 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 might 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 own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. 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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing 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 most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.