Male Friendships Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to pass 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 while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly 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 ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever 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 claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
