🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument 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—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating 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 seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument 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—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating 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 seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right? As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue. The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.