Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn'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 detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let 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 likewise value less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.
The most notable 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 affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.