Male Bonds Form Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity 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 while? Why haven'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 revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study 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 hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to 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 imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, 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, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's ideal 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 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 carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.