Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked 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 intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares 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 forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.