To paraphrase an article from the latest Counselling and Psychotherapy Journal into a paragraph, there are two linguistic cultures, those of men and of women.

Based largely on the work of Deborah Tannen, the theory goes that, in conversation, men seek status and independence, and women are looking for intimacy and connection. Men speak mainly of impersonal matters, are interested in information, they value status, emphasise independence and are able to openly express aggression, competition and challenge. Women, it is said, talk of personal issues, disclose, are attentive and sensitive to the needs of others, and value intimacy and a sense of connectedness. Men use “report” talk, women “rapport” talk. It is basically a more grounded, theoretically sounder take on the “Women are from Venus...” pop psychology phenomenon.

These concepts are both familiar and deniable. Anyone who has observed single-sex groups (and I remember especially my work as a barman and a waiter here) can only agree that this is generally a fair characterisation of homo sapiens, in genial, unselfconscious, herd mode. How each person strikes a balance between their own individual style of conversation, and the culturally-expected norm for their sex is, however, unique to them. Split people off from the pack, and they are undoubtedly different. This is especially true for men free of peer pressure.

I do wonder whether the emotional sticking-out-like-a-sore-thumbness of being gay as a teenage boy, triggers a self-consciousness that makes “normal” conversation with the lads less natural, (the environmental argument), or whether it is part of our genetic make-up that we relate linguistically and temperamentally in “womanly” ways (the essentialist argument). Probably, frustratingly, the answer is a varying combination of both. I certainly remember noticing how my early fumbling attempts at socialising were always full of questions designed to gain intimacy, to see what we had in common. My first question was always “How are you?” in a way that was designed for an answer, never a pat and formulaic “Howrya!” It would often throw my schoolmates off guard, and it was the first rumblings of awareness that I wasn’t like other boys. I didn’t know how to start off a conversation with “What about the match, huh?” That was language from a different planet, as far as I was concerned.

In therapy/counselling, it can often seem, to lay people, that the goal is to get everyone speaking in “women’s” language – the caring/sharing touchy-feely mentality. To a large extent, those who seek counselling are having problems with relating to others (someone in a fulfilling relationship rarely needs therapy) and, so, learning the language of intimacy, of disclosing feelings as opposed to opinions, is often a necessary tool to begin to break out of the cycle of isolation/inhibition.

But it is only half the picture. It is as important to have and/or develop a language of assertiveness, the capacity to express difference and individuality, to tolerate friction within a relationship, as it is to empathise and share feelings. This is true for men as it is for women. But I have yet to encounter a group of men (outside of 12-step fellowships) encouraging one of their own to be more emotionally expressive, to be more open. It seems, sadly, to go against the grain.

In the increasingly popular Gaydar, the internet chat/meet website for gay men, which I dipped into for a few days recently for the first time in over a year, out of a sense of murky bored-out-of-my-skull misery, the number of single “straight-acting” “non-effeminate” men looking for “no-strings” sex who claim to be “sorted” beggars belief. No “women’s” language here. This is competitiveness, aggression and challenge, a macho world of sex as sport. And it’s here to stay, and judging by the number of members, is probably giving pubs and clubs a good run for their money in terms of providing the means for gay men to meet each other. Why cut out the awkwardness of socialising, the shy having-to-make-an-effort experience of getting to know someone, when you can get a hot sex meet with someone with computer-matched age, fetishes, and dress-sense, delivered to your door in half-an-hour, and you don’t have to even talk to them.

A heterosexual man on my fave TV programme, Would Like To Meet, came to a moving realisation, during the six-week process of public change he signed himself up for. It was that the period of “swinging” he went through, with over a hundred different women, since his childhood sweetheart dumped him four years previously, was a way of keeping himself from getting hurt. True, it met his libidinal needs and his sense of adventure, and it was something that many red-blooded men out there would have given their eye teeth for. But its root was hurt, loss, pain.

He was prompted by the “expert” to think about how he could explain his sexual exploits to a prospective partner, in a way that would not alienate her. He found the formula, the way of framing his experience in “women’s” language, that was feeling-based, acknowledging the deep hurt he had undergone before, and admitting his need to protect himself. This was brave and authentic stuff, and the stuff of good therapy.

The panel made comment on his “dead eyes” on his dummy date – and, for any gay man who’s swum with the sharks of the scene, those cold, sexualised eyes are very familiar. They follow you around, rendering you into meat, objectifying the life, the warmth, the spirit out of you. If you let them. I wonder how many stories of defensive hurt there are, in a pub full of cruising gay men, or in a sauna or park, after the pubs close. It may seem exciting, horny, daring on the outside – and, of course, it is – but, scratch the surface, and most men will tell you that there is a reason why they don’t want to get involved emotionally, and prefer casual sex to intimacy. Men, like all creatures, don’t like getting hurt, and will do anything to avoid it. I can understand it, I have done it and bought the t-shirt, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it when it becomes the norm in the world of gay men. And it doesn’t stop me wondering how to make the subculture healthier, less imbalanced, by encouraging (back?) “women’s language” into the discourse between gay men.

Perhaps, narcissists all, we could do it by doing mini-Would Like To Meet sessions on each other, videoing them, showing them at monthly screenings? Men like challenges, like the spotlight, and can be incredibly supportive of each other if there’s a goal to be met. Why not motivate each other to learn the language of emotional intelligence? What have we to lose?