Male Connections Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing 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 deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.