Male Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight 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 handling 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 private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.