Male Connections Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later 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, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

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