Masculine Connections Develop Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths 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 predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe 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 likewise value less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.