Masculine Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 own friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British 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 consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, 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 happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.