Masculine Connections Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home 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 asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero 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 countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

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

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly 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: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.