🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument 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 classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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 Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It's good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument 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 classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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 Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.