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

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that 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 classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.