Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—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 version 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 appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made 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 elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.