Ten men waiting for me at the door? Send one of them home, I'm

“Ten men waiting for me at the door? Send one of them home, I’m tired.” — Mae West

In this line, Mae West, the legendary actress and wit of a bygone age, speaks with humor that conceals deep understanding. Beneath her teasing tone lies the voice of a woman who knew both power and weariness — who wore glamour as armor, and laughter as her weapon. Her words shimmer with double meaning: they mock desire and fame, yet also reveal the human truth that even abundance can weary the soul. When she says, “Send one of them home, I’m tired,” she is not simply jesting — she is teaching that every pleasure, if pursued without rest, becomes its own exhaustion.

Mae West rose to fame in an age when women were told to be silent, modest, and dependent. She defied them all. Through her words and her wit, she carved out a throne for herself in a world that would have preferred her kneeling. Yet even in triumph, she understood the burden of endless attention. The ten men at her door are not only suitors — they are symbols of the world’s demands, the countless expectations placed upon those who shine brightly. Her reply is not rejection but wisdom: even the strongest spirit must learn when to rest, and when to say, “Enough.”

In her jest, we hear an echo of ancient truth. The Stoics taught that indulgence without limit becomes slavery. Pleasure is not evil, they said, but the pursuit of it without restraint leads to ruin. Mae West, in her modern, mischievous way, reaches the same conclusion — that true power lies in self-command, in knowing that one’s joy comes not from endless excess, but from balance. To turn away from abundance is not weakness; it is mastery.

Consider the story of Cleopatra, the last queen of Egypt — a woman of wit and splendor, whose charms conquered emperors. She too was surrounded by admiration and luxury beyond measure. Yet even she learned that wealth and passion could not still the heart’s deeper hunger. Her end came not through poverty of means, but through exhaustion of desire. Her reign reminds us that to have everything and still be weary is the fate of those who chase life without pause. Mae West’s jest carries the same warning — a truth disguised in laughter: that even glory must yield to rest.

But there is also courage in her weariness. To admit fatigue in a world that glorifies endless energy is an act of defiance. Mae West lived as she spoke — bold, irreverent, unashamed of her desires. Yet she also knew that to live fully, one must guard the self against becoming consumed by others’ adoration. Her humor, therefore, is her shield: she commands her world with a smile, refusing to be owned by it. In that command — “send one of them home” — she reminds all who listen that the heart must rule the crowd, not be ruled by it.

The deeper wisdom here is timeless: everything grand, even love and fame, must bow before rest and self-awareness. The human spirit, like a lamp, burns brightest when its flame is tended. Without stillness, even beauty grows dull. Without limits, even pleasure becomes pain. Mae West, in her jesting way, shows that to live with grace is to know when to withdraw, when to savor solitude after the storm of admiration.

So let her words echo through the ages: Do not mistake constant attention for fulfillment, nor endless pursuit for joy. Whether you are praised by ten or by none, seek peace within yourself. Let laughter be your wisdom, and self-restraint your strength. For the wise know that to command life’s pleasures, one must never be enslaved by them. And when the world knocks too loudly at your door, smile as Mae West did — and send one of them home.