Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?
It's healthy 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 perplexed by the typical male tendency 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 could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong 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 forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method 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 the awareness that someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
