Male Friendships Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: 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—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating 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 reserved friendships. Could he be right?

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

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.