Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity 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 while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet 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 mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps 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 likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

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

From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's 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 despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.