Male Connections Develop One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Should We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside 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. Perhaps we should leave 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 talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
