Male Friendships Evolve One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit 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 could 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 dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear strangely empty and sad. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Companionship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet 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 closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Admittedly, this can sound oddly similar to how young children 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 value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating 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 exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation suggests that while men may be more reluctant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily express anger, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and later returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that someone is there enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
