Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"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 sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers 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 was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's 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 someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
