Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are often told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles 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 own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, 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 is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. 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?
It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
