Marriage, BDSM, and meaning

Two of my friends are getting married in just a few days (no, he won't be on a leash. Unfortunately.) While I'm happy for them,undoubtedly some of my more nihilistic comrades in the freethinking movement will see no meaning in their commitment. "A mere vacuous twitch of the brain cells," they might say, "brought about only because the survival shells of their selfish replicators, the genes (if I may appropriate Dawkins' term in a way contrary to his actual sentiments on the subject) required a successor." While anyone who believes in the theory of evolution, without divine intervention, must concede that this is the material, efficient cause of my friend's actions, anyone who has been in love themselves knows that this is far from a satisfactory account of the actual sentiments of the blissful couple. Even more thoughtful people rightly conclude that, however base or meaningless the material cause of it is, that nevertheless, meaning may be found in the love, joy, honor, duty, and commitment that is the right of everyone in love. And that, indeed, reducing their emotions and subjective experience to merely that- to the vacuous twitch of the brain cells- is not only egregiously erroneous, but also the most deplorable insult to the nobility of marriage. In short, anyone who has not succumbed to nihilism in our age must concede that an efficient cause is not a teleology, that a cause is not a destiny, nor a purpose, nor a meaning; that whatever the cause of a thing may be, meaning may be found in the experiences it provokes in us and our loved ones.

So why, then, do so many people balk at applying the same principle to my sexuality?

In my blissfully happy state, they will say, "he is merely reliving the abuse of his past," "he has been cultured in this way, no matter how, from his birth." That may or may not be true- for the record, I grew up in a stable middle class family, and have no memory of abuse save for a particularly outrageous middle school social situation, by which time my sexuality was abundantly clear anyway- but it matters naught to me. The meaning of my experiences, whatever they may be, will not reside in their material cause.

And even if it were? So much the better. If there is one solace my philosophical side can find in my sexuality, it's the rejection of the inherent theory of value and meaning. Not necesarily do pain, degredation, control, and heirarchy result in evil- but that their meaning and significance rests solely with the person who experiences them. And can you think of any more poetic, any more noble, any more constructive way of dealing with that abuse than defiantly turning those experiences on their ear, transforming the very things that hurt you into a relationship-strengthening, identity-affirming ecstatic experience? The black community has in some degree reclaimed the word "nigger" in much the same spirit, the gay community is attempting a similar feat with their slurs- and all three represent a defiant effort to turn that which hurts us into beautiful things.