🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent 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 developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From 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 open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. 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 "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later 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, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one. Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent 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 developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk. Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From 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 open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. 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 "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later 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, except without ever naming the obvious issue. The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words? It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.