Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit 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 time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent 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 mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

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

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.