Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable 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This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.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 play—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 preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.