Male Connections Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK 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 consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to 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 version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping 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 Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.