Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling 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 innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, 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 sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study 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 centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

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

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, 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, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.