"You want to be French, Mary Frances, that's your problem, but instead you're just another American." I went to the window for that one an saw a marriage disintegrate before my eyes. Poor Mary Frances in her beige beret... "Americans," he repeated. "We don't live in in France, we live in Virginia. Vienna, Virginia. Got it?" I looked at this guy and knew for certain that if we'd met at a party he'd claim to live in Washington, D.C. Ask for a street address, and he'd look away, mumbling, "Well, just outside D.C."