Masculine Bonds Develop One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Make Men Into Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven'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 typically revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely hollow and sad. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument 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 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 chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later 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 looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not the ideal method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.
