Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered 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 elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not everyone's ideal way 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 someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.