🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity 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? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity 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? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.