Male Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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 inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

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