Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can look oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might 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 in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and silent 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 bond developed among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
