Male Friendships Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to 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 historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea 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 activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the ideal method 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 someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.