Male Connections Form One Way, Women's Relationships Other. Should We Cease Attempting to Turn Men More Like Women?
It is healthy to talk. That's what men are often advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. 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 unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear permanently angry for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
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 preferred version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks significance. 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 company of others who also value less talk.
Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably open. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways 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 worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Issue: Is Connection Require Words?
This is not the preferred way of bonding, 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 someone cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be put into words?
The debate continues. Perhaps the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.