Male Friendships Form One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching 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 study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.