Male Friendships Form Differently, Female Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked 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 encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, 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 occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
