🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women? It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit 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 while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit 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 while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter. Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours. What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.