Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to spend 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 while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.

Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly 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 deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously 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 forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

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

This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.