Male Bonds Form Differently, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women 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 come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to 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 value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
