His Loss Hotline
His Loss Hotline is the podcast for anyone who’s been ghosted, gaslit, blindsided, or just finally stopped shrinking to stay in something small. Whether you left a marriage, an almost-marriage, or a situationship that had no business lasting that long, this is where the real talk lives.
Come for the unhinged voicemails, stay for the stories, the advice, the “wtf” moments, and the group chat-level honesty about what it really means to walk away and start over.
Call in. Sound off. Hang up. It's his loss.
His Loss Hotline
Closure Is A Scam
Every heartbreak has two endings. The one where he finally explains, apologizes, or says the thing you’ve been waiting to hear. And the one that actually frees you, the one where you realize you don’t need any of that to move on. This episode is about that second ending, the one you write yourself.
There were the long-text apologies that felt like relief for a minute, the “I’ve changed” reruns that rebooted my hope, the fake accountability that sounded deep but led nowhere. I chased closure like it was proof I mattered, waiting for a version of the story that would make it all make sense. But closure doesn’t live in his explanations. It lives in your decision to stop reading between the lines of messages that already told you enough.
What ties these stories together isn’t resentment, it’s release. Real closure isn’t cinematic. It’s quiet. It’s deleting the thread, blocking the number, and telling your friends the new standard. It’s choosing peace over clarity and letting boredom, not drama, be the bridge to detachment.
Letting go doesn’t mean you stopped caring. It means you finally stopped negotiating your own peace. And that’s not petty. That’s power.
The number cannot be reached now. Please hang up and try again later. Okay, welcome back to His Loss Hotline. I know we took a break last week. I was very, very busy. Um I visited my niece's. Shout out uh my sister and her husband. Um, I almost used her nickname, but I don't know if she would want me to use her nickname. Okay, I'm gonna do it. Uh CC dumbfuck. Shout out. Shout out, girly. Um, but uh yeah, welcome back. Uh this episode is gonna be a little crazy. Um, not crazy with confessions, but crazy with the truth. Um, but this is where we don't uh chase closure, we block it. Um I'm Kelly, your hotline operator, recovering apology collector, and proud, proud graduate of the school of men who swore they changed and did the exact same thing again. And we all know them. Um but today's topic, if you uh couldn't have guessed, it's the myth, the legend, the reason half of us still have our exes muted instead of blocked. Closure. Or as I or as I like to call it, emotional customer support service for men who don't even work here anymore. Because at some point, every one of us has said, I just need closure. And what we really meant was I just need him to say sorry in a way that finally makes it make sense. Or get back together with him. But spoiler alert, it's never going to make sense, and most likely you shouldn't get back together with him. But we'll get there, girlies. Don't worry, don't worry. Um, but uh let's start here. What the fuck is closure? Well, according to I don't know, Webster's, I don't know, I just Googled it. I don't fucking know. Um, it's a sense of resolution or conclusion at the end of an emotional process. I feel like most of this is mostly dealing with breakups. Um, but also it can deal with a lot of other things. But I'm just talking mostly about breakups. Um, and you know, that definition sounds cute, right? Sounds so mature. Sounds like something you'd get after a calm, rational talk over coffee. Except, you know, in practice, closure looks more like, you know, crying in your car outside of Chipotle. Are we still eating Chipotle? I don't know. Ever since they had that E. coli thing, sometimes I get it, but then I get a little scared. I don't know. But if Chipotle ever wants to sponsor, hit me up. Hit me up, girls. Um, I don't think I have enough people for them to sponsor, but you know, maybe, maybe one day. Um, and texting your therapist, uh, should I respond to this or no? I don't know if that counts as um like money on the clock for a therapist, but you know, Earl gets some texts from me or my family. I always feel bad. It's usually not for me. Spoiler alert. Um, if you don't know who Earl is, he's my essentially my family therapist. Um we talked about him in I don't fucking know every episode. Two episodes from or not two episodes, the second episode, maybe the third. I don't know. I name dropped him a while back, whatever. Um, but we treat closure like it's a like a four formal ceremony, like there's like a stupid ribbon cutting at the end of heartbreak. I just need closure, we say, like it's a diploma after you get from like suffering. But in real life, it's like messy. No one hands you a certificate, and sometimes you don't get a period at the end of a sentence. Just an ellipse and a new girl on his story. Fuck not. But we crave closure because it feels like control. Because if he just told us why, we could finally stop wondering. But the truth, I'm so sorry, girlies. Most of us already know why. We just hate the answer. Um, and here's the sick part. Sometimes they do give closure, they send like the long message, the kind you screenshot, zoom in on, and send to all your friends. And you think finally they get it. And always starts with something like cinematic. Um, like, I've been doing a lot of thinking, or you didn't deserve how I treated you. And you're like, oh my god, he went to therapy. No, baby, no baby. 98% of chance he did not go to therapy. If he did, good. Most of the time, people can change, I do believe that. But most of the time, he did not go to therapy to change for you. He if he's going to therapy, he's changing for himself. And maybe most likely he will not change at all. But the most likely aspect of this is he probably didn't even go to therapy. He probably watched a TikTok about attachment styles, or like my ex-husband, YouTube, and that was his uh I I'm not lying. Um, that was his idea of therapy. But you know, I don't know if we'll get into that later, but it's fucking crazy. But um you start spiraling essentially when you get that text, you start pacing the room. Well, I do, I did, um, or rereading it like it's something like fucking holy because he's saying everything you wanted to hear months ago, or you wanted to hear right now the accountability, the regret, the you're the one that got away, or you're my soulmate, and for five seconds, it feels like healing, it feels like maybe you can finally exhale, or even worse, get back together with him. But then, what inevitably usually happens, he disappears again. Because that message wasn't for you, it was for him. It was like emotional, I don't know, PR, like a press release to make sure you don't think he's the villain. You wanted closure, and what you got was an apology that expired the second he sent it. Because some men say sorry not to change, but honestly to reset the the narrative or to win you back. They want to feel like they're the good guy in your story, even though most likely they've wrecked the plot. And the hardest pill to swallow is this sometimes closure isn't the silence, it's the repeat performance. He says all the right things and does the same exact shit again, over and over and over again. And you're like, oh my god, I've seen this episode. Yeah, baby, it's because it's a rerun. It's a rerun. And I think like every girl has that one person who like keeps circling back. The I've changed guy, the I miss you energy guy, the oh, I was in a bad place guy, or my trauma guy. They're all the same character in different fonts. You forgive them, you believe them, you give them another chance because maybe it's this time it's different. I'm so sorry. And this is like, I feel so mean saying all this, but it's like the truth, and I just want the girlies to thrive. It's not this it's it's not different this time, babies. It's not. Two weeks later, he's either ignoring your text or liking his ex's stories or cheating or acting confused about your expectations. And now you're stuck between wanting to block him and wanting to make him understand you're not crazy. But you are crazy because you keep expecting a new ending from the same script. Closure doesn't come from another conversation, it comes from finally realizing that words without actions are just noise. And you also can't heal in a story that keeps repeating. And closure isn't what happens when he finally says the right thing to you, it's what happens when you stop needing him to. It's like a very hard pill to swallow, but I think it's what the girlies need to hear. But like, let's talk about real closure. It's not glamorous and it's not cinematic. It doesn't come with a soundtrack or we're both better now, hug in the rain or kiss in the rain. Like, I wish, I wish it was like movies and cinematic, and like the man changes, or you know, it can be the girlies, but I don't know if there's a percentage out there of usually it's the man, I feel like it's relatively high. Um, but real closure is anticlimatic, it's quiet, it's the moment you realize there's nothing left to fix. It's when you stop waiting for the message, the apology, the clarity, and you start accepting that maybe you won't get any of it, and it hurts like hell. Or at least it hurt me. But you have to realize that that is closure. Closure is when you finally admit the story already ended, even if you never got the last chapter. It's walking away from a half-built house and realizing you don't have to live in it just because you helped lay the foundation. It's not peace, not at first. It's confusion and then boredom and then detachment, and then, you know, in in there, there's also sadness and grief, and but like one day it's just peace. But the kind that like sneaks up on you while you're folding laundry or laughing with someone new or realizing you don't remember his middle name anymore. Closure is deciding the story ends where it stopped making sense. It's knowing what you wanted from him from him, you can give yourself now accountability, honesty, compassion, loyalty. Because if he really meant the words in that long text, you'd see it in his actions. You wouldn't need to decode it, you wouldn't need to reread it, you wouldn't be here still wondering what it meant. You would know, and if you don't, that is closure as well. Here's kind of how I like to think about it, and how an extensive, extensive amount of therapy has got me to think about it. Closure isn't a conversation, it's a boundary. It's when you stop looking for answers in people who've already showed you who they are. Sometimes you have to accept the plot hole. Not every story wraps up neatly, some just end. And it's okay if it feels unfinished. You can finish it without him. Your closure is in the growth that came after, in the fact that you don't need to prove you were right or misunderstood or deserving, you know you were, and it takes a long time to get there, or at least for me it did, because I didn't think those things of myself. But like the chapter doesn't need a conclusion if the lesson has already landed. And the lesson is you don't need his permission to move on, and you also don't need his words to move on. So if you're still waiting for that text, that call, that perfect moment where he finally explains why you can stop. Please, for the love of God, stop. Because real closure isn't something you get, it's something you decide. You decide it's over, you decide you've seen enough. You decide you don't need to rehearse the ending anymore. The figurative call is disconnected. You can hang up. I wonder where I wonder where we get our name. You can hang up. Girl, hang up, please. For the love of God, hang up. But uh I know this week's episode wasn't like the fluffy, fun, um, spirally kind. It's the more honest and truthful kind, but I think it's something all of us need to hear. At least, you know, my therapist reminds me when I would be begging, begging him um for my ex to, you know, give me closure. Why did he do this? Why did he do this to me? Like I already knew the answer. And you do too. But uh, I hope you enjoyed this episode. I know it was a little rough. So sorry, girlies. I love you. Follow his loss hotline wherever you listen to your podcast. Um, on social, we're @girl hang up on Instagram, TikTok, Pinterest, I think Facebook. I don't know, we're fucking everywhere. Girls, please. That sounded really weird. Whatever. Um, but we have like weekly spirals or breakup memes or unsolicited emotional support from your favorite divorced best friend. That's me, hopefully. But uh every whoa, new episodes drop every Tuesday, except last week, but you know. And uh, if you're still tempted to text him, don't. For the love of God, don't. But uh just come hang out with us instead. Wherever wherever you want to. We'll be here for you. And please, please, please, please, please, please, remember, it's his loss. I'm sorry, but the person you called has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet. Goodbye.