🔗 Share this article Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women? It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness 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 value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness 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 value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states. Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right? As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether. Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue. The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words? This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words? The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.