Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation 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 centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave 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 likewise appreciate less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.