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Tuesday, October 13, 2026
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Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.

Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship

Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation 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 built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.

Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.

Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?

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

Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring 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 method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?

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

About the author

Matthew Patterson

Emma is a tech journalist with a passion for exploring the intersection of AI and human creativity.

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