Masculine Connections Form Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to pass 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year 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 activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first 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 raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.