Facebook, you are amazing. You are a better distraction from studying than doodling, cleaning my apartment and watching porn combined. Because of you, Facebook, I know what people are doing, who they are doing and where they are doing it. When I am stalking, you let me know how many friends I have in common with my completely arbitrary choice of prey – it makes me feel like I have more friends than I actually do. Thank you, Facebook.

But what happens when I graduate? How will you accommodate my lifestyle choices then? Yes, you allow me to declare to the world that I am married, but what happens when statistics prove true and I become a divorcee? I looked and I looked for a status option saying something like, “Divorced” – or, to be more politically correct, “Spousally Challenged” – and alas… nothing.

Let’s ignore for a moment the blatant ageism at work, since you’re obviously assuming I wouldn’t be divorced if I’m under the age of 30. What if my partner fell under a pile of bricks? What if I’m a widow? Are you forcing me to keep pretending to the world I’m still married? How sensitive. I’m not even going to get into the fact you don’t have a relationship status for “Partner.”

Fine, let’s move on. What happens when I have kids? Where is the Facebook application that lets me tell the world I have chosen to procreate? Sure, I can play Scrabble with anyone I want, or let my vampire attack your vampire, or let people know how many friends are in my entourage – I’m pretty sure I still don’t understand what that means – but what about the babies, Facebook? You are not prepared for my future adult choices. And for that, Facebook, shame on you.

The world is changing. It’s time to acknowledge that even old people – some 35 year-olds or more – want to be cool. Hep to the jive. Keeping up with the current trends. And as the seventh-most popular United States’ Web site on the Internet, Facebook, you are it. I’ve seen the network groups for corporations such as Office Max. I’ve seen the occasional 53-year-old nutjob from a cabin in Oregon stalking the group for the high school he went to in 1967 trying to convince an impressionable sophomore, “No really, you want to play with this gun.” They don’t deserve age-appropriate status options?

Yes, I want to send a drink to my BFF. And who doesn’t want to throw sheep? Your applications are amazing. And so are you. But it is time to realize, Facebook, that one day I will not be skipping class to update my profile. One day I will have a job, a spouse, a house, a baby, a mortgage, a dog, a hernia, a second mortgage, a 401k, a remodeling of my house, a third mortgage to cover the remodeling, a planet-killing SUV, a cancer (preferably pancreatic), a wrinkle, a gray hair and maybe even a casket – if I can afford it. And one day I will login to you, Facebook, and I will be 80. And how do you propose I tell the world about my house, my mortgages, my pancreas and my casket? How?

We were tossing the idea around that perhaps a spin-off is in order. Something with a jazzy name, but safe and reliable – like an old lava lamp, or a pet rock. Something like, “FaceNovel,” or “My Face.” Or what about, “SpaceBook?” No, I got it… MySpace! Oh, wait…

Or, Monsieur Mark Zuckerberg, you could get with the program and stop this ageist nonsense. Open up more Boomer-friendly Facebook applications. Address the fact that, one day, people grow up and grow old. If you don’t believe me, ask Vanessa Hudgens. I don’t think the Disney Channel ever had more middle-aged men at one of their tapings than after those nude pics were “accidentally” released to the public. They did more for the ratings of “High School Musical” than fans of both high school and/or musicals.

My point is, Facebook, you are ageist.