Masculine Connections Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like 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. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient 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 bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. 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 value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.