Male Connections Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men Into Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look 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 widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From 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 forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.