Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: 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 classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

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

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open 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, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

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