Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside 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 imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.