🔗 Share this article Male Connections Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound 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 idea 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 also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound 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 idea 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 also value less chatter. Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right? As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly. The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words? This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.