🔗 Share this article Male Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised 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 This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside 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 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—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect 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 more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised 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 muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside 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 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—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect 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 more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.