Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked 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 intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report 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 outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, one is clearly 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 remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: 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 fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.