Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths 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 impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require 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 despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.