🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Form Differently, Female Relationships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to 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 version of friendship doesn't imply 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 appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling 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 reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered 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 Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties 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 comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to 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 version of friendship doesn't imply 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 appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling 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 reserved friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered 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 Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties 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 comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.