Male Connections Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to pass 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 asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.