🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain 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 personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights 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? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain 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 personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights 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? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.