🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing 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 reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing 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 reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.