Male Bonds Evolve Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient 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 closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly 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This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.