🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing 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 This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: 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 fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody. Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing 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 muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right? As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: 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 fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.