Male Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to pass 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% 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, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient 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 observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent 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, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require 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 fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.