Male Bonds Form Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired 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 encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever 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 explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.