Masculine Connections Develop One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; 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, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent 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 forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea 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 enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told 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 naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.