Male Friendships Develop Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, 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 apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there 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 acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.