Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, 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 repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," 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 argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness 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 healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.