Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more 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 years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.