Male Bonds Develop One Way, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly 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 ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion 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 reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.