Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Relationships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave 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 likewise value less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive 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 perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.