Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.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 play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return 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 reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.