Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend 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 time? 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 personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged 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 stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant 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 modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.