Male Friendships Form One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Ought We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It's beneficial to talk. Or so men are often advised, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically center on an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's private feelings, this form of male closeness—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of UK men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to see a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem chronically frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing emotions up helps nobody.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Friendship
However, as per researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just distinct," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how young children interact—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: simply due to the fact that it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. 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 also value less chatter.
Beyond Words: The Unspoken Language of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Instead, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?
As a female perspective, I'm obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss personal matters, once they do, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of overt emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are far from incapable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "political opinions" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, discontent, or pride endlessly.
The most notable about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends noticed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the obvious issue.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's preferred method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that someone cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that invariably be articulated with words?
The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal worth, each satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
