Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events 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 revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let 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.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core 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—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.