🔗 Share this article Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight 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 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 private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by 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 emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers 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 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 spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. 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 incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight 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 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 private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by 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 emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers 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 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 spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. 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 incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.