Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Stop Trying to Push Men Into Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are bemused by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem oddly hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that 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 vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less chatter.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction for hours.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like care and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned struggling, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred method of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to recognize that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.