Male Connections Form One Way, Women's Friendships A Distinct Way. Ought We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly advised, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male propensity to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely empty and sad. No wonder, one might think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem chronically angry for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy study has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Maybe we should leave 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 likewise appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts 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 then 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, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while maintaining normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, but without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Is Connection Need Words?
This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is fundamentally the awareness that another person is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that different styles of friendship hold comparable worth, each satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in their own powerful way.
