Masculine Bonds Evolve Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?
It is good to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the women they live with. They remain bemused by the typical male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? 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 own friendships often revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male closeness—built on apparently sidestepping meaningful conversation—can appear oddly empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently angry for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the resilient and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the bond developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea 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 pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.
Past Words: A Tacit Language of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is clearly not claiming that expressing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be occurring beneath the surface of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a woman's perspective, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But years of experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express anger, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to communicate what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer didn't appear and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be discreetly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and low mood—is simply knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable value, respectively meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in their own powerful way.
