Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners 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 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 personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling 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 happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
