The word "penis" is funny. However, there is absolutely nothing funny about just how cool penises are.
This may be the entry that leaves some of you out there in blogland a little squirmy and a little uncomfortable, but I must share this bit of tautological weirdness with the world: penises are awesome.
In all my years as a vulva-and-vagina-having woman, I thought my genitalia were just fine. I mean, no second thoughts or frustrated/angry/fed up thoughts apart from those related to the euphemistic auntie Flo or some such –or for the unfortunate few who get them, urinary-tract-infection-related. Really, it never seemed to feel like a chore to have to sit down or squat or anything like that; as long as you're protected by a stall or some bushes, things are fine.
But then you get to see the other, ahem, perspective– when life gives you a male child, for instance, and you become intimately acquainted with the routine of using your higher-power-given genitalia for their intended urination purpose on a VERY regular basis, and all you can think is,
"Wow. Why didn't life see it fit to give me one of those?"
Damn. Penises are not only comically cute; because truly, they are not titillating as female genitalia are known to be, but they kind of hang there looking like little elephant trunks, patiently waiting but with something akin to a deformed smirk just waiting for their turn at that elusive "something" that makes them filled with intrigue and possibility and potential energy, like the roller coaster car at the top of the steep hill; but, after that incredibly long thought, they are user-friendly as well.
You can use them quickly, and without getting much of your anatomy exposed, such as is the case with women in the stuck-in-the-woods scenario. Certainly if you're wearing a dress, said dress will end up hiked over your head just so you can make sure you don't get it dirty in any way. And if you're wearing hosiery, you're asking for some sort of mess– plus you cannot squat widely enough, even over a restroom toilet.
Brief aside– if you're a toilet-squatter, would it KILL YOU to "clean your workspace" so to speak after you're done using the restroom? No one wants to see your splatter patterns, and there are people who actually sit on the toilet seat who are less than amused to have to clean up after you, you know.
But back to our topic…. at hand (heh heh): no toilet paper? No problem! Just give a couple of hearty shakes and you're done!
You can pee into a bottle! You can pee while driving! You can tuck yourself into a dark, small little corner or a Metro elevator and pee!! You can pee WHILE LYING DOWN!!!
And of course (there must always be an "of course"), you can aim with sharpshooter accuracy, put out fires, write your name on any surface you so desire –from sand to snow– and you can pee standing up without ending up in some creepy fetish site!!!
The penis is the most elegant, envy-worthy design ever and maybe Freud was onto something after all.
And now you wish you hadn't read this, huh?