🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way 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 the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way 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 the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.