🔗 Share this article Male Connections Develop Differently, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. 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 hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. 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 hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.