Male Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return 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 asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher 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 heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—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 version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
