Skip to content
Discover insightful articles on British culture, arts, hist…

Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—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 ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.

About the author

Emily Tate

A cultural historian and writer with a passion for uncovering hidden stories in British society, blending academic research with engaging narratives.

Insight Culture UK

Type to search articles.