🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles 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 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 form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong 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 forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. 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 company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles 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 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 form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong 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 forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. 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 company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.