Male Bonds Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven'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 intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no 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, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to 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 heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to 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—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

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

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.