🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.