Masculine Friendships Form One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent 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 bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless 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 worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
