Male Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty 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 widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe 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 talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not the preferred way 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, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.