🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to pass 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? How come they didn'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 encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred 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—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other 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 preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through 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 forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to pass 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? How come they didn'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 encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred 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—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other 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 preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through 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 forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.