Masculine Friendships Form Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired 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 understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study 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 companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he 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 at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.