Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe 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 Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not everyone's 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 the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words?

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