When Facebook opened its doors to a limitless age group, did this alienate its coveted youth demographic?

My name is Adam Shahbaz. I am 23 years old and the assistant editor at iMedia Communications. I am Facebook friends with my boss, Brad Berens. A recent article in the Wall Street Journal outlined the horrors of being "friended" by a boss at work. And although that fear is real, the new Facebook plan goes even further, marginalizing the very people that made it grow: people like me.

Facebook me
In the summer of 2006, before my time at iMedia, I logged onto my Facebook account -- as I had done everyday for the last year -- and saw something I had never seen before. All of a sudden I had a "news feed." I knew what my friends were up to at all times. I got the hot gossip as it happened.

But then a group like "Coke>Pepsi" invited me to join, and I started getting their event notifications without even accepting the initial invitation. My once immaculately groomed inbox became a wasteland of announcements from people I did not know, from schools I had not heard of, clubs I did not care for, and events I would surely not attend.

Mark Zuckerberg's privacy announcement did little to placate my concerns. What about the personal information that people already had access to? What about principle? I felt jerked around, invaded. But hey, I could handle it. I'm an early adopter.

Even after I finished college, I decided to keep my profile up and running and take it with me to iMedia, if anything else, for old times sake.

Prey to predator
It only took a week for my new colleagues at iMedia to tell me they had seen a precarious picture of me with my shirt off. Although it embarrassed me, I resolved then and there to keep my profile honest. I simply changed my attitude.

Facebook became a great marketing tool for my band, rejn (pronounced "rain"). Now users would get our concert messages even if they had yet to join our global group. The group, by the way, jumped from a paltry 200-something local members to a growing 600+ global membership of "devout" Facebook users in a very short period of time. For the effort (little) and the cost (free), we seemingly got a great deal.

The original, more local fan group, however, allowed us to engage our users. People clicked on the band members and checked out our pages and saw the parties we played at and whether we passed their litmus test of coolness. They checked our individual pictures: bass player doing a keg stand, lead singer in mid-back-flip.

Things were looking up.

With the new global fan group, the one that killed the original, people commented less. For every message we sent, our fans became more resentful of the influx of spam. We had to resort to older techniques to get people to come to the shows. After all, with a small band as with a small business, local means golden. But the announcements became worthless.

We even paid for 30,000 flyers to be distributed exclusively on the University of Southern California Facebook network. At the show, I asked around and did not find one person who even saw the flyer, let alone anyone who found it compelling enough to come to the show. I never expected a big return, but I figured at least one person would have seen it. We were back to good old word-of-mouth.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

I logged on one day to the rather pleasant news of a new friend request and found one of the most horrifying decisions of my life.

"You have a friend request.
Brad Berens (No Network)"

Staring back at me, complete with the headshot from so many iMedia articles, pre-packaged with the "Books I've read" application: Brad Berens, Ph.D, Editor-in-Chief, iMedia Communications, Inc.

Accept or decline?
Obviously, I accepted the offer of friendship. I even left my profile (and many of the crude or embarrassing pictures it holds) alone. After all, I do not see myself being eligible for government security clearance in the near future. This is not Northrop Grumman; this is iMedia, a progressive, interactive media environment. Brad wouldn't judge my professional performance on my college antics, and he didn't. I lucked out.

Then the friend requests came rolling in. My family members began to request me, including distant cousins and other relatives one would normally try to impress with good nature and tasteful humor, not drunken antics. Finally, the big one hit: My thirteen-year-old sister requested me.

That's when I finally cleaned up my profile, erasing the really bad pictures, and keeping some of the slightly naughty ones so as to appear genuine. My popularity is far less important than the way my little sister views her big brother. Period.

The result?
I don't check Facebook as often anymore. I don't stay as long as I used to. I am not as engaged because it's just not honest like it used to be. Due to the clutter, it's harder to find the parties I used to look for and less enticing to check.

I can't help but wonder how many people know that one person who, once friends with them on Facebook, will follow the path I took. What's better anyway: 200 engaged users, or 600 people who care much, much less about your product?

Is the famously elusive 18-25 demographic once again slipping away?

Adam Shahbaz is assistant editor at iMediaConnection. Read full bio.