🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form Differently, Female Friendships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let 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 likewise value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, 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 is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible 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 far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let 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 likewise value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, 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 is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible 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 far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.