Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, 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 return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious 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 endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.