🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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? Why haven'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 encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly 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 mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss 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 younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told 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 verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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? Why haven'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 encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly 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 mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss 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 younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told 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 verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.