Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships Other. Ought We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's healthy to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might 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 often center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths 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 struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
