🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to pass 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 while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong 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 closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem 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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated 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, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. 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 routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to pass 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 while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong 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 closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem 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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated 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, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. 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 routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.