Male Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging 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 come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter 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 outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

However, as per researcher 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 northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

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