Masculine Friendships Evolve Differently, Female Relationships Another. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might 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 consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. 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, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not the ideal way of bonding, 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 someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
