Male Bonds Develop One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles 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 center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond 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 worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
