🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to spend 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 managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence 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. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to spend 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 managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence 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. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.