Male Connections Form Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging 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 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 chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the ideal 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 someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.