Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return 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 coping with 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 innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent 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 developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," 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 evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack 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 articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
