🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate 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 permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let 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 also value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming 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 exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate 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 permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let 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 also value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming 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 exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.