Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we 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 unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers 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 significance. 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 presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible 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 voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
