Male Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation 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 underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing 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 frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. 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 direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.