Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying 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 observation 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—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling 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 exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
