When I first joined Facebook (I'm relatively certain it was early 2006), it took some finagling. Originally you had to be a college student with a bona fide .edu address. Then, based on popular demand and a growing number of college student posers, Facebook opened its registration to high school students. I managed to infiltrate, but it involved making sure I didn't get tripped up on questions like "What year were you born" and "What's your graduation year." (Hint: The math had to work.)

By the end of 2006, Facebook threw caution to the wind and got rid of requirements. For the first time anyone with a valid email could have a Facebook page. Upon joining you needed to identify yourself with a group—and a group could be your school, your workplace, your geographic region, or even no group at all. (Read Emily Yoffee's account of being friendless on Facebook.)

For people my age, the "open" era of Facebook is sort of like doing the electric slide at the family wedding. We love feeling like we're part of the scene, but who are we kidding?

Certainly we bring our own sensibility to Facebook. We're more likely to post photos convincing friends of our newfound leisure (lots of outdoor shots in exotic locales) than photos of the shot glasses lined up after a night of fun. We're more likely to be posed in expensive but trendy biz casual than in cellulite revealing outfits. More likely to quote Dylan on our pages than P. Diddy.

In the past few weeks my Facebook invitations have gone wild. Suddenly every 40+ year-old with a photo and a relationship status is coming out of the woodwork to see what this is all about.

The grownups are loving it. They're poking and playing and inviting with glee. But you know the drill. Once your parents start making jerks of themselves on your turf you start looking for the next place to hang. Worse still is when your parents cross the line and want to be your Facebook friend. (Read Michelle Slatella's riotous "omg, my Mom joined Facebook.")

The latest numbers indicate that Facebook is growing by 150,000 new sign-ups every day and that there are already 24 million members served. (Take that McDonalds.) More telling, according to PC Magazine the number of people who are Facebook users who are not in college (55%) has surpassed the number who are.

The only thing that's countering the graying of Facebook is the fact that the service recently opened its code to application developers who are doing all sorts of imaginative crowd pleasing things. You can now be in your Facebook profile and review a book on Amazon, share your favorite things, share online gifts, take quizzes, view maps, and more. The more stuff there is to do the more time you'll spend at the site.

What are the possible outcomes now that Facebook is aging and open to all?

1. Just like in the real world, generations will coexist. There's certainly enough room in cyberspace for each group to have their own playground. And kids who have invested countless hours in getting their pages "just right" are in no hurry to abandon their carefully cultivated Facebook lives.
2. People like me will make Facebook a place that kids don't want to be. Facebook will be another hot spot gone cold as it becomes too mainstream.

To read Mark Zuckerberg's thoughts on the future of Facebook see this week's Time Magazine, but let's hear from you, too. Is there room to grow old on Facebook?