🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.