Masculine Bonds Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven'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 revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised 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 different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
