Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency 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? 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 often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter 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 repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong 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 closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers 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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask 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 naming the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.