Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study 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 activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.