Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty 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 hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths 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 lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
