🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version 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 presence of others who also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, 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? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. 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 direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version 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 presence of others who also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, 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? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. 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 direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.