🔗 Share this article Male Connections Form One Way, Female Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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 asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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 asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody. Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.