Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.

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

Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the preferred method of bonding, 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 another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.