Male Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling 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 innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet 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 arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

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—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised 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 "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique effective way.