Male Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events 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 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 meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Silent Companionship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—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 preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts 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 then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.