🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.