Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Push Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed by the typical male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong 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 predominantly older men. His lengthy 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 hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave 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 talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
