Masculine Connections Evolve One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
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 northern England when he was impressed with 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 emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.