🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to spend 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? How come they didn'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 revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, 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 seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. 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, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to spend 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? How come they didn'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 revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, 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 seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. 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, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.