Masculine Friendships Form Differently, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence 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 acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
