Male Connections Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report 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 countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring 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 experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.