Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly 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 mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.