🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners 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 come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners 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 come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.