🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.