Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying 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 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 centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return 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, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.