🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised 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 This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older 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 satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats 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 put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised 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 outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older 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 satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats 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 put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.