Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women?

It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship

Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed 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 stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less talk.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern

Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.

The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?

It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?

This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.