Do you know what it means to come home at night to a woman who'll

The words of Henny Youngman — “Do you know what it means to come home at night to a woman who'll give you a little love, a little affection, a little tenderness? It means you're in the wrong house, that's what it means.” — are a jest forged in laughter, yet beneath their humor lies a glimmer of truth about the paradox of love, marriage, and human nature. Spoken by the great king of one-liners, this quip captures not only the wit of its age but also the timeless tension between expectation and reality, between the dream of affection and the comedy of domestic life. It is the laughter born from truth — that sacred laughter which, even as it amuses, reveals the small ironies of the human heart.

Henny Youngman, born in 1906, was one of the great masters of American comedy — a man whose brilliance lay not in long stories or elaborate setups, but in a few sharp words that struck like lightning. His humor emerged in the golden age of vaudeville, a time when the world had seen two wars, and people turned to laughter as a form of healing. His most famous line, “Take my wife — please!” became a symbol of his craft: humor drawn from the fabric of everyday life, where love and irritation dance together like old companions. In this quote, Youngman takes the eternal dream of tenderness — the warmth of affection at day’s end — and turns it on its head with a twist of playful cynicism.

Yet, to dismiss his words as mere jest would be to overlook the wisdom that humor conceals. For even in his laughter, Youngman speaks to a truth known since the dawn of marriage: that love, though beautiful, is imperfect, and that life within the home often strays far from the songs and stories that first inspired it. The ancients themselves knew this well. The philosopher Socrates, when asked whether a man should marry, answered, “By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you will become happy; if you get a bad one, you will become a philosopher.” In both Socrates and Youngman we hear the same music — that love, when stripped of illusion, must be met not with despair, but with humor.

There is, however, a deeper lesson in this laughter. Youngman’s joke is not truly about mockery, but about forgiveness and endurance. To laugh at one’s own disappointments is to disarm them; to find humor in hardship is to conquer it. A marriage without laughter grows brittle; a heart that cannot smile at imperfection soon hardens. In his jest, Youngman offers a subtle teaching: that humor is the safeguard of love. When tenderness fades and quarrels rise, laughter — that small miracle of perspective — can restore warmth to the coldest hearth.

History bears witness to this truth. Consider Abraham Lincoln, who in the midst of war and sorrow never ceased to tell stories that made even his enemies smile. Once, when accused of being two-faced, he replied, “If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one?” His humor, like Youngman’s, was a weapon of mercy — a reminder that even amidst chaos and disappointment, one may choose levity over bitterness. So too, in the small wars of daily life, laughter is the peace treaty that keeps love alive.

The ancients would have seen in Youngman’s jest the wisdom of balance. They knew that man and woman, bound together in the trials of domestic life, would often clash, but that the sacred art of humor turns conflict into companionship. To jest about love is not to demean it, but to acknowledge its complexity — to accept that affection is not constant, that tenderness is often buried beneath fatigue, and that true devotion lies not in perfection, but in the ability to smile through imperfection.

So, my children, take this jest as both mirror and medicine. When you find yourself expecting too much of those you love, remember to laugh — gently, kindly, with the wisdom of one who understands. Love is not always tender, nor is marriage always sweet, but laughter can make it bearable, even beautiful. Do not seek a perfect home; seek a joyful one. And if one evening you come home tired, longing for affection, and find instead the chaos of ordinary life — do not despair. Smile, as Henny Youngman would, and remember that humor is not the denial of love, but its preservation. For those who can laugh together, even at their flaws, will never truly be in the wrong house.