Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This muted form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Maybe we should let 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 value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not the preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.