🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing 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 style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at 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 observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up 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 This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing 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 style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at 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 observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up 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 quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.