🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop Differently, Female Relationships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.