Yo! I'm eating chocolate cake and decided to write this as my first Havoc-centric chapter! Considering his luck with women, is it really such a surprise I chose this theme?

Bad Things To Say On A First Date:

Jackie was amazing. She was beautiful, she smoked, she shared his dislike of shopping, she even enjoyed watching sports matches with him, if he could get tickets. They had been friends for a few months when Havoc finally plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date.

She accepted. He booked the restaurant, bought flowers and picked her up on time, dressed smartly and carrying more than enough money for however much they decided to eat.

He escorted her around the corner to that quiet little place he had chosen, the one with a violinist in a corner that served good food without being extortionate.

"Oh, wow. This was a really good choice, Jean." She picked up her menu. "You know what, the last time I was in this restaurant, I was still a man!" Perusing the dishes on offer, she didn't notice the effect those words had on 'her' date.

His face went white and, as quickly as he could, he excused himself, suddenly 'remembering' an urgent report that needed filing.

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Rachel had seemed pretty nice at first. Tall, willowy and with amazing long dark hair and sultry eyes, she was stunning to look at. Havoc resolved not to bring her anywhere near Mustang, in case he tempted her over to the dark side, dated her, then dumped her for another poor sod's girlfriend. Did the man do it on purpose or something?

It was their third date and Havoc was beginning to have his doubts. It was not until they were about half way through their main courses, however, that he realised she was a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

They were talking about work and Havoc had been boasting about the roles he had played in many thrilling tales, when he asked her about her job.

"Actually," she said rather dreamily, "During the day I'm something really high up in the city…" and she cooed.

She cooed. She cooed like a pigeon. She sounded like one of those feathery rats with wings!

This time, Havoc had to fake an allergic reaction to the seafood in front of him to escape.

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Henrietta was a history teacher at the local secondary school. She was fairly plain, but made up for it with her lively talk and quick wit. Her anecdotes about the various mistakes of the teenagers she taught were always refreshing, as well as her descriptions of the way they acted when hormones first reared their ugly heads; mooning around their crushes with heartbroken expressions because they may as well have been invisible to the other student.

In a battle of wits, she would rarely come out as the loser, if ever.

It was one of those rare moments when a topic of conversation didn't immediately present itself so, casting around frantically for a way to get the talk flowing again, Havoc bravely asked about the first thing to come to mind.

"I know that I can't be the first guy you've gone out with. Out of curiosity, what's your dating history like?"

"Er… my dating history? Yeah, erm… divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived." She burst out laughing at the way his face dropped. "I'm just joking! If you must know, I've only gone out with three other guys; I don't really have a chance to get out much, what with marking and the rest."

They made plans to meet again the next Saturday evening and it all went swimmingly, until Henrietta's brother not-so-subtly threatened Havoc's manhood should he ever hurt her or even be too close to her in his presence.

That kinda put a damper on things.

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Right from the start, he had known that asking out Eva had been a mistake. This fact was hammered in even further on their first date, a meal together at a local café, followed by a walk in the nearby park.

He blamed the chocolate cake, really.

She had eaten it quickly, devouring it until not even a crumb remained on the plate. It seemed to give her some form of courage – or maybe it just removed her inhibitors – because the next thing she did was latch onto his chest, screaming "I WANT A BABY NOW!"

He did the only thing he could; get out of the embrace and run like the devil herself was chasing him.

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It was the morning after the annual New Year's bash and Havoc's whole body hated him. His head hurt, every muscle ached, and he was going to die if he didn't have some water in the next ten seconds.

He got up out of bed with a heroic effort, fighting down the urge to vomit as his head swam. He staggered through his apartment and into his kitchenette where he downed two glasses of water in quick succession, swiftly followed by plenty of strong coffee.

Feeling slightly more human, he stumbled over to the mirror where a nearby address was stuck with a post-it. Underneath it, in his distinctive drunk spider handwriting was a reminder:

Jessica, Friday 7 PM

Dinner + film

His memories of the night before were hazy, at best, but he was sure he could remember flashes of a flirtatious grin followed by an agreement to meet up for a date. Oh well, what was the worst that could happen?

He was standing outside her door, the obligatory flowers in his hand, about to ring the doorbell.

From the first – sober – sight, he knew something had gone horribly wrong.

"Whoa! How pissed was I when I asked you out?" he blurted thoughtlessly.

"Not nearly as pissed as I was when I said 'yes'!" she snapped, then slammed the door in his face.

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So it had come to this; answering 'Lonely Heart' adverts in the paper. That was doomed to failure from the very start, but he gave it a go.

They had agreed a meeting place and a time. Havoc did not bother to buy flowers or any other gift, but turned up at the stipulated plaza at noon for his date.

She immediately got on his nerves. The woman was prejudiced, arrogant and judgemental.

Admittedly, with hindsight, he could have handled it better but, at the time, it seemed to be the only thing he could do. "Oh, I see. So when you put 'bubbly' on the advert, you meant fat." The one guaranteed way to get a woman to loathe you on the spot; call her the 'f'-word.