Masculine Connections Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical 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? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made 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 naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
