Male Connections Evolve One Way, Female Relationships Another. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Turn Men Into Women?
It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly told, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven'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 typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men report 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 outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who also appreciate less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to express what seems remarkably like care and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate continues. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
