Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles 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 often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially 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 underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's ideal 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 knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.