Male Friendships Form Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity 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 might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Silent Friendship
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 studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, 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, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
