🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing 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 style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean 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 presence of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing 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 style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean 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 presence of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.