Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency 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 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror 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 observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered 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 naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.