Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men Into Women?

It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight 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 personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship

However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth 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 anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because 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 spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion 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 viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?

The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.