SHAY GOLDSTEIN: I am not! There was a smudge on my glasses.

DOMINIC YUN: I see. You wanted to have a better view of my face.

SHAY GOLDSTEIN: A better view of its flaws. Did you just stop halfway through shaving this morning and call it good?

DOMINIC YUN: It’s already three o’clock. I have very powerful testosterone.

SHAY GOLDSTEIN: You heard him, folks, we have a great big strong MAN in the studio today. However will the women be able to keep from fainting?

DOMINIC YUN: Keeping their sarcasm to themselves might be a good start.

SHAY GOLDSTEIN: I’m starting to feel it. I—I’m getting weak. I’m not sure how much longer I can be in your presence. The room is spinning, and I’m hot all over, and—and— DR. NINA FLORES: You know . . . forgive me for saying this, but in the interest of getting everything out in the open and on the table—I’ve worked with a lot of couples, and I’m sensing something between you two. Something you two haven’t talked about. Some lingering tension, perhaps?

SHAY GOLDSTEIN: What? Oh—no. No lingering tension here.

DOMINIC YUN: Definitely not. Everything is on the table, Nina. Trust me.

13

The master’s jar starts during episode three, when a caller named Lydia tells us she met her ex in grad school.

“I don’t like to talk about it, but I also have a master’s degree,” Dominic says, catching my gaze, half his mouth tilting into a smile. There’s a self-awareness to it he didn’t have a couple months ago, or if he did, I never noticed. It’s too funny to bother me anymore, especially now that it’s become a joke with the listeners. They latched onto what I said in the first episode and even found some of his old college articles and tweeted them out.

Lydia’s laugh is a fuzzy burst through the phone line. “You guys should start a master’s jar. Like a swear jar, except Dominic has to put in five dollars every time he mentions his master’s degree.”

It’s wild, the way she talks about Dominic like she’s known him for ages. My favorite podcasts have built up years and years of in-jokes, and I can’t quite believe that we’re already starting to have something like that. A vocabulary just for us and our listeners.

“That’s perfect,” I say. “I’m all for shaming Dominic.”

“Five dollars?” Dominic says, incredulous. “How much do you think we make?”

So that’s how the empty Costco jelly bean jar ends up on my desk with DOMINIC MASTER’S JAR written on it in Sharpie. Ruthie decorates it with blue and orange stickers, the colors of the University of Illinois—Northwestern’s rival. At the end of every month, the listeners get to vote on the charity we donate the money to. By the end of the week, there’s twenty-five bucks in there.

People at the station have been trying to bait him, too. Mike Russo mentioned his daughter will be applying to college in the fall and wondered if Dominic knew of any good schools in Illinois, and Jacqueline Guillaumont asked if he had an opinion on the piece about higher-education funding she was working on. The funniest thing of all, maybe, is that he’s being such a good sport about it, shaking his head, offering a tight smile, and backing away from any question that could steal five dollars from his wallet.

In a landslide, the listeners vote to send our first donation to the University of Illinois alumni association. I film a video to post on social media while Dominic pretends to shed a tear as he makes out the check.

* * *

—

The next week, Dominic and I wind up at a trendy new downtown restaurant to collect some tape for an upcoming show about aphrodisiacs. At Oscura, we’re completely in the dark, both literally and metaphorically: All the lights are off, and the dishes, a prix fixe menu based on whatever the chef is in the mood for, are made up of primarily aphrodisiacs. Ruthie went here on a date when it opened and said it was a trippy experience. Today they cleared out the restaurant for a private lunch for Dominic and me.

“This is a cold pomegranate-beet soup with maca root,” says Nathaniel, the ma?tre d’, and I hear a soft clink as two bowls are placed in front of us. “It’s a plant that has been called the Peruvian Viagra.”

A recording device sits on the table between us. We wanted to experiment with our segments, mix in some prerecorded elements. Since we can’t see what we’re doing, it’ll make for great radio, and my inner audiophile is positively giddy. The first course was oysters with some kind of fancy cocktail sauce. I’m probably one of only a handful of people in Seattle who don’t like seafood, so I couldn’t tell if they were good or not. But Dominic said wow after his first one, so I assume they were. The second course was a potato galette with a pistachio crust, the third a chicken curry with heaps of fenugreek, and now we’re on the last course before dessert.

In the dark, my sense of smell is much stronger, and the Viagra soup smells incredible. Tart yet earthy, with a hint of sweetness from the maca. I dip my spoon and lift it to my mouth. “Oh my god. I could eat a vat of that.”

“How much science is there behind all of this?” Dominic asks. “Because what I’ve read is that oysters aren’t scientifically proven to be aphrodisiacs, though there’s some evidence to back up something like maca or fenugreek.”