Male Connections Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return 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 dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred 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 pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

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

From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.