Male Friendships Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit 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? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club 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 horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made 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 obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need 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 cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.