Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, 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 the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—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 most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.