🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from 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 lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked 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 Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from 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 lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked 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 Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.