Male Friendships Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, 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 idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear 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 subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
