Masculine Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let 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 talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.