🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused 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 could 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view 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 northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.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 play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing 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 happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused 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 could 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 dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view 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 northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. 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 play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing 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 happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.