Masculine Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: 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 low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
