Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK 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, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation 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 hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.