🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred 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—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred 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—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.