Male Connections Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked 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 deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe 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 also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care 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 probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.