Male Connections Form One Way, Women's Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain 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 personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage 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 arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because 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—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or pride for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
