Masculine Bonds Form Differently, Female Relationships Other. Should We Stop Trying to Push Men More Like Women?
It is beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly told, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? How come they didn't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose own friendships often revolve around an intimate and detailed understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on seemingly sidestepping meaningful conversation—can look oddly empty and sad. No wonder, we think, that over a quarter of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is widespread; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until seriously ill; that male suicide rates consistently outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Bottling everything up benefits nobody.
Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the bond forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper arguing that, especially for men raised in an era of the emotional restraint, the worth of friendships built around shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet model of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can seem disconcertingly 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 preferred 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 enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise value less talk.
Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a reversion to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be happening beneath the exterior of seemingly reserved friendships. Could he be right?
From a female perspective, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to discuss sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably forthright. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at voicing feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Repackage vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent anger, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction for hours.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and affection. When an older volunteer was absent and later returned struggling, his friends observed and were worried. However, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't ask what was wrong. Rather, they made tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping normality. They were looking out for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Core Question: Does Bonding Require Words?
This is not everyone's ideal way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that combats loneliness and despair—is simply the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
This discussion persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal worth, each meeting the psychological needs of different individuals in unique effective way.
