🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% 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 exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation 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 built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. 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 ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way 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 the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% 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 exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation 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 built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. 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 ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way 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 the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.