🔗 Share this article Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody. Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states. Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk. Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether. Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours. What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words? This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.