🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused 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 might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective 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 forged 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 emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later 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, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused 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 might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective 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 forged 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 emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later 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, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.