Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass 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 time? 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 personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: 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 vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, 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, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.