🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Form Differently, Female Friendships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency 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 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 often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing 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 different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency 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 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 often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing 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 different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.