🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked 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 detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent 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 observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value 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 different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion 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 clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, 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 cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked 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 detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent 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 observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value 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 different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion 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 clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, 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 cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.