Masculine Connections Form One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the women they live with. They remain perplexed by the common male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they inquired how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships typically center on an intimate and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—built on seemingly sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that many middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these mostly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underrated.
This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Granted, this can sound disconcertingly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe 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.
Past Verbal Expression: The Unspoken Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, 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 happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's viewpoint, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Core Question: Is Connection Require Words?
It's not everyone's ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone is there enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, must that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
