🔗 Share this article Masculine Connections Form Differently, Female Relationships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity 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 might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that 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 pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity 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 might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that 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 pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk. Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely. Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words? This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words? The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.