Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women?

It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with 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 private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage 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 contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.