Male Connections Form One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Stop Trying to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are often instructed, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been published as a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships centered on 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 distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the company of others who also value less chatter.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more expressive culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
