Male Connections Form Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from 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 mostly older men. His lengthy 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 centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe 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 likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating 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 exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
