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Getting hit on can be one of two things; slightly flattering and fun, or completely disgusting and oh-so incredibly lame. In my experience, being hit on by lesbians is an occurrence almost totally devoid of the latter.

I’m sure some of you have lesbian pick-up horror stories (or fantasies, whatever the case may be), but whenever I’ve been the attempted pick-up-ee by another woman, I have felt neither the grossed out shivers or the latent uncomfortableness that often accompanies the male pick-up.

For one thing, women always start a conversation first, asking a question, asking a name, instead of going right for the proverbial jugular of “you’re hot, can I buy you a drink?” Easing into things allows both parties to feel like they’re actually talking, rather than diving headfirst into a mating ritual.

Something else women always seem to do is look people in the eye. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve met a man at a bar and watched him talk to my chest (not just mingle with it, expound with it), feeling pretty violated the entire time. Every time a woman has hit on me, her eyes stay north, preferring to get to know the face attached to the boobs.

Thirdly, most women just aren’t creepy. A 45-year-old dude with a ponytail and weird handlebar mustache trying to get my number: creeptastic. A 45-year-old woman with a ponytail (and one would hope, no mustache) trying to get my number: only slightly uncomfortable.

I’ve made my way to quite a few bars in the city I live in, and sometimes, lesbian bars are the ones with the best music, best dancing, and best drinks. Sure, there are women out there who are pushy, persistent, and intimidating, but most of them are going to treat you with refreshing respect you don’t see very often in straight bars.

And one last bonus point for the ladies? Every time I’ve told a woman that I’m straight, she accepts it and continues whatever conversation we were having. When was the last time you made it clear to a guy you weren’t interested—and he stuck around to chat?