Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return 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 coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised 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 muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping 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 Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?

It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.