Masculine Connections Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet 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 bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
