Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common 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? 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 deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—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 version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
