🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing 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 style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal 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 enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, 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 exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing 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 style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal 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 enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, 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 exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.