Masculine Friendships Form Differently, Female Relationships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view 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 northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating 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 reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.