🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until 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 no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view 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 northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care 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 isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until 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 no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view 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 northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care 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 isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.