🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women? It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency 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? Why haven'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 center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound 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 significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, 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 seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency 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? Why haven'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 center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound 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 significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, 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 seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.