🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight 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 managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight 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 managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.