Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.