Male Connections Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient 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 bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—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 preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the preferred 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 fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.