Precisely! Anyone who’s ever clocked the ladies room line at any highly-attended event knows this. Keira Knightley is plugging her new flick Collete and, in an interview with The Guardian, opined that having a penis must make life a little easier. At least when it comes to peeing. “Yep. Sure does.” – people with penises.
In the interview, looking-and-feeling-busted-after-birthing-a-human activist Keira got into how she wanted to eventually grow into being a man as a child.
“I remember everything about that feeling,” she says, now 33, folded up on a sofa in a London hotel. A big blue frock juts out from under her like a nest. “That girls grew into men, and that’s what I was going to be.” Toddler logic, she admits; goodness knows what boys became. “Maybe it was that the girls were the most powerful in the playground. They were in charge and, obviously, the men were in charge outside. So clearly that’s where I was going. Only, of course it wasn’t.”
Feeling you there, Keira. And I’m speaking from the former perspective of a second grader who thought styling Barbies and acting out familial psycho-drama by playing “house” was preferable to playing a schoolyard game with the other boys wherein you’d try to catch the kid with the kickball, tackle him to the ground, and beat him mercilessly. A game that was LITERALLY called, wait for it, “Smear the Queer.” That vagina couldn’t have grown in fast enough. But alas, like Keira found out – biology is a dick. So to speak.
And on to the watersports:
“I’ve never wanted a penis,” she clarifies. “Apart from to piss up a tree. Being able to do that standing up: so convenient. You can just whip it out and whatever. But the idea of something so vulnerable swinging between my legs, I think I’m all right without.”
A tree? Try alleys, parking garages, bushes, empty doorways, in a moving car into a bottle, behind a dumpster, off a cliff, off the top of a building, off a dock, out a window, to write your name in snow, there are 1000s of places to whip it out and piss!
Keira’s also right about the vulnerability that comes with having junk. You realize that the first time a porky toddler running ACROSS a couch uses your seated crotch as a stepping stone. “Why has Uncle J. curled into a fetal position and started crying?” – my porky toddler nephew.