🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events 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 typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging 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 leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, 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 reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events 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 typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging 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 leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, 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 reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words? It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words? This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.