Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Women's Relationships Another. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are bemused by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships often center on an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many refuse to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing emotions up benefits nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was struck by the closeness developed 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 emotional restraint, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
As a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional observation indicates that while men may be more reluctant at first to discuss sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what looks remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's ideal 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 simply the awareness that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.
