More Than What
You See on Camera

The biggest surprise has been confidence.

Doing this has made me more comfortable with my body, more open about my sexuality and much less frightened of being judged for either.

It has also made me look after myself more.

And then there are all the things I never associated with the adult industry in the first place: travelling, meeting people from completely different backgrounds, experiencing different gay communities, discovering nightlife in other countries, collaborations becoming friendships and building this enormous network of people I probably never would have met otherwise.

It changed what I thought a career in this industry could actually look like.

Before, part of me thought doing something like this could mean never having a “proper” career again.

Now?

I can see the possibility of building an amazing career from it.

Because OnlyFans isn’t simply putting a camera in front of yourself and having sex.

Creators build businesses around themselves. People launch podcasts. They model. They sell products. They create brands. Some move into television and other parts of entertainment.

You don’t necessarily know where one opportunity will lead.

And I’ve learned to stop assuming that being an adult creator automatically closes doors.

Sometimes it opens completely unexpected ones.

This is probably one of the biggest misconceptions.

People hear OnlyFans and assume I’m constantly having sex. Or that I must have an insanely high sex drive. Or that I’m addicted to sex. Or they immediately want to know my body count.

And yes, sex is part of what I do.

But there is an entire business surrounding the bit people see on camera.

One of the biggest parts is actually connection.

Subscribers can watch porn for free anywhere on the internet. So why would somebody choose to pay to follow one particular person?

Because there’s a person on the other side.

We talk to subscribers. We learn things about their lives. We ask how they’re doing. They learn about us. Over time, there’s a feeling that you’re virtually part of one another’s everyday world.

Of course there’s adult content. There are fantasies and custom requests.

But reducing the entire relationship to “let me see your dick” or “here’s a video” completely misses why many people subscribe in the first place.

People want connection as much as they want content.

I don’t want this Journal to become me pretending everything about the industry is wonderful.

It isn’t.

The same job that can massively increase your confidence can also destroy it if you’re not careful.

The difficult thing about making yourself the business is that when the business isn’t performing, it’s very easy to decide that you must be the problem.

If a company launches a product and nobody buys it, they might think the product isn’t good enough.

But when the product is your image, your personality and your body?

Suddenly the conversation inside your head becomes: Maybe people don’t like me. Maybe my body isn’t good enough. Maybe I’m not attractive enough. Maybe I’m doing something wrong.

Then you open social media and see another creator with enormous numbers, huge collaborations and millions of views.

Comparison can become brutal. Especially at the beginning.

You compare your chapter one with somebody else’s chapter ten and wonder why you’re not getting the same results.

You need thick skin to work in this industry.

There’s another fantasy about OnlyFans that makes me laugh.

Upload some photos. Sell some feet pics. Become a millionaire.

Maybe somebody managed that in 2020. That isn’t the reality I’m experiencing today.

Being an adult creator now means understanding multiple platforms and completely different audiences: OnlyFans, TikTok, Instagram, X, Bluesky, Telegram.

One piece of content isn’t necessarily usable everywhere. You need adult content for one platform and safe-for-work content for another. You need to understand what different platforms allow and how to make content that actually fits each audience.

Then there are algorithms, accounts being restricted or removed, platforms suddenly underperforming, networking, collaborations, travel, editing, lighting, cameras, tripods and equipment.

A collaboration in another country might mean paying for flights and accommodation before you’ve earned anything from the content. And there is no guarantee you’ll earn that money back.

You can spend £1,000 travelling somewhere to create something you believe will perform brilliantly… and it doesn’t.

That’s business. It’s also something people rarely associate with porn.

I’ve watched people enter the industry expecting easy money and leave almost immediately when they discover what the job actually requires.

There is another huge part of my experience in this industry that I can’t really talk about without mentioning: my boyfriend, David.

We’re both creators, and I’m genuinely glad that we share the same mindset about what we do.

There is something incredibly valuable about being with somebody who actually understands this world because he’s living it too.

The collaborations. The travelling. The filming. The networking. The successes. The disappointments. The slightly ridiculous situations you occasionally find yourself in when your relationship and your work exist in an industry that most couples will never have to navigate.

A lot of my journey has been our journey.

We’ve celebrated successes together, supported each other when things haven’t gone to plan and learned a lot about ourselves as a couple along the way.

And I don’t want to pretend that’s always effortless either.

This industry can test your confidence, your communication and your boundaries. Sometimes something that feels completely normal to one of us might need a conversation with the other. We’ve had to learn what works for us together.

But having the same fundamental understanding of what we do has been a massive part of making it work.

David isn’t just somebody standing outside my creator life cheering me on.

He’s part of it.

And that means he’s been part of many of the successes — and some of the struggles — that have shaped me as a creator.

I’m sure there will be much more about the two of us in this Journal.

Another thing I’ve learned is the importance of separating the two.

Adult content can involve real sex, but that doesn’t automatically make every sexual experience emotionally equivalent.

There is a difference between performing or creating something for work and intimacy in your private relationship.

That’s something David and I have had to understand together too.

What happens while we’re creating doesn’t replace what belongs to us privately. Being able to distinguish between those two worlds — and communicate when those boundaries need attention — has become incredibly important.

Actors can film incredibly intimate scenes for television or film without the audience assuming that becomes their entire private identity.

Adult creators deserve some of that same nuance.

Learning where work ends and your personal life begins matters.

So do boundaries.

Don’t be scared.

Take opportunities when they appear, because some of the really good ones don’t necessarily come around twice.

And talk to people.

At the beginning, I was intimidated by established creators.

Why would somebody with a million followers reply to somebody with 5,000?

Then I started asking. Some replied. Some collaborations happened. Some of those opportunities gave me exactly the push I needed.

I realised I’d created the rejection in my own head before I’d even given the other person the opportunity to say yes or no.

So ask questions. Approach people. Learn from them.

But before any of that: do your research.

Knowledge is power in this industry.

Understand what you’re getting into. Understand how the platforms work. Understand the workload. Understand that your content could eventually be seen by somebody you never intended to see it.

Understand the investment. And understand yourself.

Don’t build this career on the fantasy that you’ll switch on a camera tomorrow and become rich.

Build strong foundations. Then give it a proper shot.

Because despite the difficult days, the comparisons, the uncertainty and everything I’ve had to learn along the way, becoming a creator has given me confidence, experiences, friendships and opportunities I never expected.

I went into this industry worried about what everybody else would think of me.

Maybe the biggest change is that now I’m much more interested in what I think of myself.

And I like that person considerably more.

— Roby