Male Friendships Evolve Differently, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Make Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass 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 asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point 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 leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not the preferred 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 is there enough to walk through 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 styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
