Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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? 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 personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue 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 impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

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

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing 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 occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.