Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might 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 unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness 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 emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the ideal way of connecting, 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 difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
