Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass 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 time? 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 own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion 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 exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
