Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Female Friendships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men Into Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return 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 asked 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 deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue 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 impressed with the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
