Male Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly 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 companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

This is 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 low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.