Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain bemused by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack 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, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked 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 Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal value, each satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
