How I cold call my Hinge matches that would send my ex into a mf coma

Hello. Come over so I can take all your money, little bitch boy. Cat got your tongue? Mommy's calling. Speak, dog. Cat has got my tongue. Cat has got your tongue, yet you ain't got no cat on your tongue because you don't fucking spend money, bitch. Do you know who the fuck I am? No, I don't. On your biggest fucking dream and your biggest fucking nightmare all in one. And I'm here to take control of your mind, my little bitch boy. Is this so? I know it's so, okay? So here's what the fuck is going to happen. Are you ready? Mhm. So, tomorrow at 2:00 p.m., you're going to spoil me, take me to Bourbon Steak, give me the truffle macaroni and cheese, bitch, and do whatever I say. Yes, ma'am. Mhm. What's that? Oh, fuck you. You think you have a big dick for trying to come against me, bitch. You aren't shit, okay? Come with me. Be a good boy for Mommy. What made this? What made this happen? What made you call me? I'm calling you because you look like a sympathetic little whore who needed their mommy to put you in your place, okay? Agree or disagree? Mhm. That's a yes. That's a yes, bitch boy. Okay, so just shut the fuck up, say you'll see me soon, and say I love you. I'll see you soon. I love you. Love you too. Bye. Bye.