Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
