🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits 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 bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female 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 begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits 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 bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female 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 begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.