Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits 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 bond developed 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 worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.