Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up 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 muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—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. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later 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 maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
