1987. The year I began to truly understand the world and all of its wonders. The year I awoke from an adolescent slumber to understand that nothing but possibilities await the hopeful spirit. The year I discovered my heart’s expansive, never-ending capacity for love. The year I found Cindy Mancini.
To most, Cindy Mancini was simply a fictional character from the film Can’t Buy Me Love. They would be wrong. In truth, she was irrefutable proof that hopeless dorks had a chance to win the love of the head cheerleader—as long as they could afford to buy her a $1,000 suede outfit after a classmate spilled red wine on her mother’s outfit at a super lame high school party. As an awkward 135-pound eighth grader with tinted prescription glasses and a proclivity for wearing leather ties to junior high dances, even the smallest bit of hope can buoy you for years to come.