Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home 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 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 encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, 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 reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female 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 personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. 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, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.