Male Friendships Develop Differently, Female Relationships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain perplexed 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 inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Perhaps we should leave 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 chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older 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. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
