🔗 Share this article Male Connections Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women? It's good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation 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 hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation 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 hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.