Life is rhythmic for Ten, even before the physical rhythms of womanhod begin. The ebb and flow of Ten's emotions could control the tides; the moon is no match for Ten's power. She pushes and pulls and pushes and pulls and pushes and pulls those around her with ever-transforming moods, leaving all in her wake confused and delighted and frustrated and amused.
Ten needs you desperately in the anxious night, only to confidently force you away in the morning. She loves and respects you almost as much as her friends for a few brief moments that you will cherish as though they were riches beyond measure, for you know that in an instant, she will return to her default state of stubborn righteousness. In Ten's world, you get all of the blame and none of the credit.
You love Ten differently than you loved Nine, or Eight, or Five or Four, or Two or One. Loving Ten is more complicated-- hard and easy and rough and gentle and lots and lots and lots of work. But the return on investment of loving Ten is far greater than could be imagined. For Ten is clever and bright and perceptive and entertaining and kind-in-her-own-way and inventive and FUN, and to earn the love of a person like that is... magic.