Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit 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 could 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 typically center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?

From a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express 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 communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?

This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.