Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles 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 dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly 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 underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights 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 viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
