Male Connections Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Other. Ought We Cease Attempting to Push Men Into Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are constantly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the typical male propensity to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What could 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 own friendships often center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men report having no close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up helps no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised 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 underrated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—alongside each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your preferred idea of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whatever pursuit allows them to spend time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less talk.
Past Words: A Tacit Dialect of Concern
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return 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 apparently reticent friendships. Is he right?
As a woman's perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily express frustration, yearning, discontent, or satisfaction endlessly.
What is striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. But, as the professor records, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Issue: Is Connection Need Words?
It's not the preferred way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to walk through life's challenges with you, does that always be articulated with words?
This discussion continues. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold comparable worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in their own effective way.