Male Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial 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, does that always be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.