Jean Havoc's life sucks. To be specific his love-life sucks. Every girlfriend he got ended up dumping him.
"'groan' Why can't I keep a girlfriend?" He whined.
"Not this again. You're not the only one with lady problems you know!" tears streamed down Fuery's face.
"I mean seriously, every-time I meet a nice girl, I get called into work and have to stand them up!" he suddenly gasped in realization. "That's it! It's this job, it has to be!"
"What are you going on about now?" Falman grunted, setting down a box of papers on Havoc's desk.
"The reason I can't keep a girlfriend is this job. The military is the ultimate cock-block!"
Breda scoffed, "What? You're full of it. You can't keep a girl because you're not charming."
Mustang burst in, "What the hell! Shut up and get back to work!"
"S-sorry Sir, It's all Havoc's fault," Fuery stuttered.
"Is it now?" Mustang popped his knuckles and walked over to Unite Coordinator's desk.
"I was just stating the truth Sir,"
"And what exactly is this 'truth' that you'd risk your job for?"
Havoc slammed his hands down onto the desk, "That's just it Sir! This job is why I can't get laid!"
"You're joking," Mustang said with a blank face.
"You want proof? Fine! Show of hands who here has gotten laid in the last five months!"
The men looked back and forth. Only Mustang raised his hand, with that damn smug face of his.
"And it doesn't count if you just remember waking up with a hangover and a woman in your bed." Havoc glared at him.
Mustang started to sweat, "G-get back to work!" he yelled as he quickly left the room.
"So it's settled?" Havoc asked.
The men all nodded, tears in their eyes. All together they cried, "THE MILITARY RUINS YOUR SEX-LIFE!"