Male Friendships Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea 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 activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

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

From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is striking 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 solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.