🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Form Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea 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 likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea 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 likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.