Masculine Friendships Develop Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts 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 partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might 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 typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—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 idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights 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 articulated with words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
