Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit 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 might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent 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 forged 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 value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly 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 deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up 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 "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require 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 the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.