Male Connections Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly 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 significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked 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 apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. 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 visit 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 unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending 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.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, 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 another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
