Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic 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, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.