Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at 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 lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, 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 someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.