Masculine Connections Form One Way, Women's Relationships A Distinct Way. Ought We Cease Attempting to Make Men More Like Women?

It is good to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women 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 while? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can seem strangely hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, one might think, that over a quarter of British men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.

Reconsidering the Merit of Silent Friendship

However, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a heritage steam railway in the north of England when he was struck by the closeness forged among these mostly older men. His lengthy observation has been distilled into a paper contending that, especially for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the value of friendships centered on shared activities—"doing things together, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated.

This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.

Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: simply due to the fact that 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 vintage auto projects—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the company of others who likewise appreciate less talk.

Past Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Concern

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not claiming that showing emotion is harmful, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk is not for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of seemingly reserved friendships. Is he right?

As a woman's viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation indicates that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of overt emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at voicing feelings, traditional men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless managed to communicate what looks remarkably like care and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned struggling, his friends noticed and were concerned. However, as the professor records, they deliberately didn't ask what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were caring for each other much as female friends would, but without ever naming the obvious issue.

The Core Issue: Does Bonding Need Words?

This is not the ideal method of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is simply knowing that someone is there enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to acknowledge that different styles of friendship carry equal worth, respectively meeting the psychological needs of various individuals in unique effective way.