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

It's good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"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.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside 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 let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?

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

The debate continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.