Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending 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 comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
