Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version 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.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. 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 probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's 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 low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.