🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—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 significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—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 significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.