🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.