Male Bonds Develop Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the common male habit 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 while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong 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 forged 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 stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older 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 what was wrong. Rather, 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, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
