Masculine Friendships Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit 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 often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not the ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
