Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are often told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could 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 personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending 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 underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. 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 appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point 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 perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.