Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with 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 form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly 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 Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.