🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study 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 hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study 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 hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.