Masculine Friendships Form Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to spend 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong 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 impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

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

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.