Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.