Male Connections Develop Differently, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to pass 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 while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, according to researcher 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 heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea 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 spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.