Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?

It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked 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 deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.

Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

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

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.