Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend 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 time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British 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 consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing 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 comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version 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 presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.