🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.