Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding 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 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 encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value 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 anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.