Male Bonds Form Differently, Female Relationships A Distinct Way. Is It Time to Cease Attempting to Turn Men Into Women?
It's good to talk. That's what men are repeatedly told, by everyone from mental health advocates to the women they live with. These women are perplexed by the typical male tendency to spend an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home utterly clueless about the personal struggles in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven'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 often revolve around an deep and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently sidestepping serious conversation—can look strangely hollow and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that more than 25% of UK men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many hesitate to visit a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates consistently exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, in particular, seem permanently frustrated for unspoken reasons. Bottling emotions up helps no one.
Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship
Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the strong and silent friendship. Professor Yarrow, based at Durham University, was researching 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 study has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the emotional restraint, the value of friendships built around shared hobbies—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underappreciated.
This quiet form of friendship "is not deficient or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests.
Granted, this can sound oddly similar to how young children play—next to each other rather than directly with each other. But Yarrow's point is evident: just because it's not your preferred 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—whatever activity allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who also value less talk.
Beyond Verbal Expression: A Tacit Language of Care
Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that showing emotion is weak, nor advocating for a reversion to the past. Rather, he makes the point that touchy-feely talk isn't for everyone, and that more may be happening beneath the surface of apparently reserved friendships. Is he right?
From a female perspective, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male conversation. But professional experience indicates that while men may be hesitant at first to discuss personal matters, once they begin, they can be remarkably candid. A absence of visible emotion should not be confused with a lack of feeling entirely.
Furthermore, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are far from unable of it. Rebrand vulnerable emotions as masculine "political opinions" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily express frustration, hope, disappointment, or satisfaction endlessly.
The most striking about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their horror of discussing feelings, they nonetheless found ways to express what looks remarkably like concern and affection. When an elderly volunteer was absent and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they deliberately didn't ask direct questions. Rather, they offered tea, cracked jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.
The Essential Question: Does Bonding Need Words?
This is not the preferred 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 fundamentally knowing that another person is there enough to be present in life's challenges with you, does that always be put into words?
The debate persists. Maybe the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that varied styles of friendship hold comparable value, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.