Male Bonds Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?

It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short 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 predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.

Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.

What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?

The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.