Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven'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 revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is 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 older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require 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 fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

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