Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong 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 bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing 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 companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

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

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. 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, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.