Male Connections Develop Differently, Female Friendships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are often told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events 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 personal friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage 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 contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly 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 idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence 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 articulating feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
