🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly 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 mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. 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—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly 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 mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. 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—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.