Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home 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 asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked 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 way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.