🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend 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? 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 often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let 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 also appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. 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 more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend 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? 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 often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let 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 also appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. 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 more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.