🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK 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 repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching 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 study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps 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 likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing 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 occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence 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 unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK 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 repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching 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 study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps 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 likewise appreciate less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing 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 occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence 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 unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.