Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short 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 raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the ideal way 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 is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.