Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—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 value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not everyone's 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 simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.