Male Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming 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 occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.