Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Make Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
