It's not the men in my life that count, it's the life in my men.

Mae West, bold and unafraid, declared with the wit of a prophetess of her age: “It’s not the men in my life that count, it’s the life in my men.” Though born in jest and delivered with her trademark playfulness, these words hold deeper wisdom than they seem. They teach us to look beyond the mere presence of people in our lives, to the vitality, the spirit, the life-force that they bring. For what is companionship without fire? What is love without passion, or friendship without soul? Numbers mean nothing; it is life that gives meaning.

The ancients too knew this truth. Homer did not praise the Greeks for their multitude, but for the courage of Achilles, the cunning of Odysseus, the resolve of Hector. It was not the countless men in the armies that shaped destiny, but the burning life in those few heroes who stood above the rest. In every age, history is not written by the many, but by the few who lived with vigor, passion, and purpose. So Mae West, with laughter on her lips, spoke a truth as old as the epics: seek not the count of men, but the quality of their spirit.

Consider the tale of Alexander the Great. Surrounded by thousands, he is remembered not for the size of his armies, but for the life he ignited in them. When his men faltered in the desert, he poured water meant for himself onto the sand, showing he would thirst with them. It was this spirit, this burning life, that carried them across mountains and rivers to the edge of the world. Had he been but a man of numbers, his story would be forgotten. But because he was a man of vitality, his name lives on.

Mae West’s words, though draped in humor, carry also the wisdom of discernment. Many fill their lives with companions, lovers, or acquaintances, but feel still the emptiness of the heart. Why? Because presence without spirit is nothing but shadow. Better one person alive with joy, courage, and energy than a multitude drained and hollow. It is the life in others that uplifts, inspires, and sustains us.

But hear also the call to ourselves: do not be content only to seek the life in others. Become the one who brings it. Be the friend whose laughter fills the room, the companion whose courage strengthens the weary, the lover whose passion burns bright. Do not merely exist in the lives of others—live with such vitality that your presence transforms the space around you.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not count relationships by number, but by depth. Do not measure companions by how long they remain, but by how fully they live. When you choose those with whom to walk the road of life, look not to their faces but to their spirits. Are they alive, burning, full of passion for truth and beauty? Then they are the ones who will lift you higher.

Practical wisdom flows from this: surround yourself with those who bring light, not darkness. Seek companions whose presence makes you feel more alive. And in your own life, cultivate vitality—through curiosity, courage, and love. When you bring life into your words and deeds, you will not only enrich your own journey but become the kind of person Mae West herself would have celebrated.

So remember, O listener: it is not the men in your life that count, but the life in your men. Let this truth guide you. Do not be dazzled by numbers, nor fooled by appearances. Seek always the fire of spirit, and kindle that same fire within yourself. For in the end, it is not how many walk beside you, but how deeply they live, and how brightly they help you burn.