🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient 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 bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal 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—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient 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 bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal 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—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.