Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year study 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—"shared activity, often in comfortable 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This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.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 toddlers interact—next to 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 imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need 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 combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry comparable worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
