Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless 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 managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.