Masculine Connections Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male tendency 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 could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—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 ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise value less talk.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.
