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

It is good to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially 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 altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.