🔗 Share this article Male Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven'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 center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet 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 forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let 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. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven'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 center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet 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 forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let 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. Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.