Masculine Connections Form Differently, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male habit to pass 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? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.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: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.