Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn'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 center on an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound 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 version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship carry equal value, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
