Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male tendency to spend 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 while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet 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 mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly 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 hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, 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, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?

This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.