🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Form Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused 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 unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused 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 unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.