He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)

He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)

by Stan Faryna

Stan Faryna

Fans of Mad Men will know the song by The Crystals, He Hit Me. It punctuates a recent Mad Men episode about rape, serial killing, abuse, and indifference. The song also reminds me of what happened in Tunisia a few days ago when Tunisian protesters were beaten down – not to mention Rima Dali, a Syrian activist.

You’ll find the song lyrics below and then some of you will bounce. Because I think that’s all I’m going to write about the song written by Goffin and King. Or the TV series, Mad Men, created by Matthew Weiner.

The Crystals, He Hit Me

Notorious daddy blogger, Jack, is thinking about how even a daddy blogger has to bring in the audience – one way or another. Jack writes about this problematic in his recent blog post, Sex, Lies & Blogging- The Post That Went Viral.

If I understand Jack and his treatise on the imaginary number (a number whose square root is less than or equal to zero), the point is to cast your nets far and wide because a million hits is better than 100. Even if only one fish out of 10,000 wants to stay for dinner.

Of course, what Jack said reminds me that I promised you the lyrics to the song, He Hit Me.

Here’s the song lyrics to He Hit Me as written by Gerry Goffin and Carole King:

He hit me
And it felt like a kiss.
He hit me
But it didn’t hurt me.

He couldn’t stand to hear me say
That I’d been with someone new,
And when I told him I had been untrue

He hit me
And it felt like a kiss.
He hit me
And I knew he loved me.

If he didn’t care for me
I could have never made him mad
But he hit me,
And I was glad.

Yes, he hit me
And it felt like a kiss.
He hit me
And I knew I loved him.
And then he took me in his arms
With all the tenderness there is,
And when he kissed me,
He made me his.

Is Jack right? I suppose he is. Myself, I don’t think I have a problem writing about sex, violence, lies, contaminated plastic waste and forced evictions of the poor. Or do I?

If I can point out a light at the end of tunnel or some semblance of conscience, self-reflection, and compassion, I suppose that I don’t have any problem writing about these things in the most graphic terms.

But what I don’t want to do is write titles that I can’t deliver upon. That doesn’t build trust and relationships with people. Right? Or am I mistaken to emphasize trust over titillation?

Jack is not saying that. I don’t think he is. But I am taking Jack’s argument to it’s logical conclusion.

I do know that my game guides about Facebook Games got 100k+ readers every time I write them: Backyard Monsters, Castleville, etc. And I didn’t have to trick anyone into the read. Those game guides are what they are.

But what if Jack is right in his modest proposal? The logical conclusion is that I should be writing porn. Or about it. Not all the time, but every once in a while. Just to keep the traffic percolating. Stussy thinks so.

I’m uncomfortable with that. Writing porn or writing about porn for no good reason. Even writing about the new Porsche Cayenne GTS would cramp my style. After all, we’re only talking about 420 horse power and a SUV going 0-60 in 5.4 seconds. Give me a 540 hp hybrid electric-diesel engine and 0-60 in 4.8 seconds and I’d gush.

Just thinking about porn makes me feel bad. It gives me a certain Sartrian naseau. Existential ambiguation  - in other words.

I don’t know.

These crazy, wild thoughts remind me of another song. A song that seems to pair well with He Hit Me. Perhaps, we’ll hear it in an upcoming episode of Mad Men.

The Animals, Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

And my quandary?

Should I just get over it? Should I embrace mauvaise foi (bad faith)?

Must I?

Must you?

Stan Faryna
11 April 2012
Cacica, Romania

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