Male Friendships Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

However, according to researcher 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 heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged 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 activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

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

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.