Male Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events 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 managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

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

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: 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 classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.