🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent 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 study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, 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, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent 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 study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, 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, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.