Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

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

Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.