Masculine Bonds Evolve One Way, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are often instructed, from sources ranging from mental health advocates to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet return with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? How come they didn't they inquired how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is managing the loss of his father?
For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an deep and detailed knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male closeness—based on seemingly avoiding serious conversation—can appear oddly hollow and unfulfilling. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of British men state having no close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many hesitate to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that many middle-aged men, in particular, appear permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Suppressing everything up benefits no one.
Reconsidering the Value of Silent Companionship
However, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this perspective may sell short the merits of the strong and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying 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 published as a paper arguing that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This muted form of friendship "isn't bad or anachronistic, it's just different," Yarrow states.
Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is evident: just because it's not your ideal version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks value. Perhaps we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also appreciate less talk.
Beyond Words: A Tacit Dialect of Care
Thankfully, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he highlights that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?
From a female viewpoint, I'm clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But professional observation indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be confused with a absence of feeling altogether.
Additionally, while younger men raised in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "club allegiance," and many men will happily vent frustration, yearning, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, despite their aversion of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways 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 notes, they deliberately didn't probe what was wrong. Rather, they offered tea, cracked 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: Does Bonding Need Words?
It's not everyone's preferred way of bonding, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally knowing that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words?
This discussion persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to recognize that varied styles of friendship carry equal value, respectively satisfying the emotional needs of various individuals in unique powerful way.
