🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to spend 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 while? Why haven'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 typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. 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 value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to spend 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 while? Why haven'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 typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. 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 value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.