Male Friendships Evolve Differently, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events 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 managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, as per researcher 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 northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because 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—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.