Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient 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 forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
