I spent most of my 30s freewheeling and partying my way through Asia. My glory days ground to an abrupt halt when I became a dad.

• In 2010, Duncan Forgan’s life in London got difficult, so he packed up and moved to Asia.
• He found success in his work life but lost control due to excessive partying in his mid-to-late 30s.
• Becoming a dad helped him adopt a less selfish approach to life.

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In 2010 I left London in the wake of a cataclysmic relationship breakdown and a lean period of work. I saw life in Asia as a fine alternative to the strictures of a conventional Western life path.

In London, I was a cash-strapped nobody. In Vietnam, my first port of call after leaving the UK, I began to feel good again. I found success in travel writing, telling stories about my amazing new experiences. I even got a motorbike that I could ride into the front room of my house. It’s little wonder that I came to associate the region so strongly with freedom from tiresome responsibility.

A few years later, my wings were clipped slightly in Singapore — Southeast Asia’s token nanny state. Bangkok, where I arrived in 2015, was another matter entirely. Thailand’s capital has plenty to offer the sober-minded. But its commitment to sanuk — the Thai sense of fun — epitomizes its freewheeling energy.

It’s a place where the wheels can easily fall off the cart, and I began crashing regularly. I propelled myself like a booze and substance-fueled unguided missile through the neon-lit netherworld of my mid-to-late 30s.

Something had to give.

And it finally did about a year into my relationship with my girlfriend. We were lying in bed when time was finally called on my extended adolescence. “I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant,” she said. To millions of men, such tidings would have sparked an outpouring of unbridled joy and affection. For me, the words sparked a mixture of relief and the feeling that life’s walls were rapidly closing in.

“Are we actually going to do this?” was my initial reaction.

Although I had never craved fatherhood, it was not an aversion to the concept of child-rearing that informed my view. I’m optimistic in a lot of ways, but the state of the world — psychopathic politicians, perpetual war, and looming economic disaster, to pick just three maladies at random — could send any man rushing to the nearest vasectomy service.

My fears were also rooted in less universal themes. I’ve never been the most nurturing guy, and like many long-term single male expatriates, my lifestyle and outlook blurred the lines between liberated and unbelievably selfish.

What, I asked myself, could I offer a child beyond a few laughs, a forced indoctrination into the netherworld of Scottish football club fandom, and a passion for rare soul music and dusty 1960s garage rock? And what could it offer me beyond an irrevocable curtailment of the life I’d been living for the best part of my adult existence?

Goodbye bachelorhood, hello fatherhood

Duncan Forgan

Eventually, it became clear that I would have to get on the bus or stay parked at the lay-by of long-term bachelorhood — a father in name, but not in action. I decided to get on the bus.

Nearly seven years later, I’m delighted I stamped the ticket. Even allowing for parental hubris, ours is an excellent kid. He’s sharp on the uptake at home and school, is a caring, affectionate little guy, and has a good sense of humor.

There are downsides, of course. His occasional noisy tantrums would give peak Beatlemania a run for its money. And I’m at a loss to understand some of his obsessions, Minecraft, and Skibidi Toilet being two current favorites. If there’s anything guaranteed to make a guy feel ancient, it is a six-year-old earnestly trying to explain the gist of a dystopian animation featuring toilets with human heads.

Duncan Forgan

Maybe I’ve become more philosophical over the years. Perhaps I’ve just been ground down. But the negatives — yes, even the brutal school fees — don’t phase me.

Being a dad made me a nicer person.

There have been changes in me that have been welcome. Parenting and hangovers don’t tend to mesh. Therefore, I’ve managed to phase out some of my more destructive drunken habits.

Being a dad has also helped me reassess my relationship with others. Having to care for and provide for someone else has encouraged me to adopt a less selfish approach to life. Ergo, I don’t think I’m quite as much of a jerk these days.

Just before my son arrived, I spent long hours clutching a magically refilling tumbler of Scotch and catastrophizing over everything: the puke, the tears, the steady financial leakage. Why I worried when so much of that resembles a typical night out in Bangkok, I don’t know. Now, these all seem like inevitable — educational — parts of the journey.

Fatherhood dug the grave and erected the tombstone on the carefree “glory” years. Thankfully, the afterlife is a sight less stressful.