Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return 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 managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly 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 built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," 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 clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.