Male Connections Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass 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? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value 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 struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal 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 activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.