Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view 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 developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging 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. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating 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 surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

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

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.