Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight 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 managing the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British 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 countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient 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 forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

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

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.

Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's perspective, 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 forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.

What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?

This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.