Male Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. 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 ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.