Why are men so afraid of settling down and having children? Part of the answer may lie in the phrase “settling down”. In a world of ever-expanding opportunity, why would an ambitious young man in his 20s, or even 30s, sacrifice freedom for the limitations of fatherhood? It’s a question every man must grapple with, and I should know, as someone who has done more than his fair share of grappling. I come from a generation of men, now in our 40s and 50s, who were told we could have it all. Many of us believed the message, and still do.

This reluctance on the part of men to let go of youthful folly might explain the recent Office for National Statistics report showing more than half (50.1 per cent) of women in England and Wales born in 1990 were without a child when they turned 30 in 2020. For the first time since records began in 1920, there are more women without children at 30 than mothers of the same age. The average number of children women have has also fallen to its lowest-ever level (0.96), down from 1.89 in 1971.

So are 30something men shying away from their responsibilities? I was in my late 40s when I finally decided to get married, having spent much of the previous decade batting away impertinent questions about when I was going to settle down.

My wife and I had met through friends and, despite a considerable age gap – she was in her early 30s – we realised we were on the same trajectory. We had our first child a year and a half ago. I sometimes regret having left it so long – until my early 50s – but, in truth, I wasn’t anywhere near emotionally mature enough in my 20s to decide anything of importance.

In my late 20s, I dated a woman in her mid-30s. Although only a few years divided us, our priorities about starting a family were a million miles apart. The idea that we should end a perfectly loving relationship because of her biological constraints felt coldly mechanical, as though my love could never really be enough for her. I should have been more sensitive – but it’s not as if we’d stopped caring for each other.

The last thing I felt like doing was settling down in my 30s. While I appreciated my family’s concerns, I wasn’t going to be rushed into something. Besides, relationships were becoming more fluid so the need to “conform” to some outdated template felt stiflingly old-fashioned. Back in the early 2000s, when most of my conventional early 30something contemporaries were busy pairing off with childhood sweethearts and university flings, my more rebellious friends and I continued to party. Of course, it never occurred to us that such frivolities might have to end some day. We were too busy to care, and while it’s true none of us wanted to be the last to leave the party, we certainly weren’t going to be the first. Opting out of the good life would have to have been worth the sacrifice and, frankly, the idea of trudging off to the ’burbs, wife and bawling baby in tow, just didn’t cut it.

Were we selfish to ignore conventional wisdom that told us not to leave it too late? Did we have a duty to surrender to our genetic imperative despite other more pressing biological urges? I guess you could argue we were acting irresponsibly by focusing so much attention on our own selfish needs but why burden yourself with responsibilities you neither want nor particularly believe in? We had all seen those browbeaten pram-pushers hiding from their wives in dank parks, eyes glazed, jaws rigid with resentment, all hope gone. My neverland friends and I resolved never to be like them. Oh no, things were going to be different for us.

And, indeed, they have been. Many of us continue to cling to those heady ideals. I’m glad I held on to my autonomy despite pressures from former partners to “do the right thing”. As for my old party pals – Neverlanders, as I affectionately call them – by refusing to give in to the pressures of the procreationists, many are still out there partying hard in their 40s and 50s; portlier, craggier and a little less nimble of foot, perhaps, but dancing the nights away nonetheless. However, loneliness along with a desperate need to cling to a rapidly receding past has overtaken any joy they once had.