Male Connections Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic 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, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways 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 worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.