Male Connections Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit 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 time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling 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 knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.