Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

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

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.