At least...

When I was 17, a French girl named Anais and I spent the summer together. She lived with me and my family in the US for July, and I went to Paris and Les Issambres (near St. Tropez) for August.

One day when we were lying on the beach, Anais told me, "You know, we like you much better than the Irish girl that stayed with us a few years ago."

I said, "Really?"

She said, "Yeah, she used to throw her dirty wash cloths behind the piano."