🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity 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 while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity 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 while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.