Male Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, 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 normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.