Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked 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 intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly 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 built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside 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 imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.