Male Bonds Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are perplexed by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can appear strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher 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 northern England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year study 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 built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise value less chatter.
Beyond Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant 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 lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours.
What is notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the emotional needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
