Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.