It was a Friday night in the Bay Area, and Daniel, 25, was preparing for a first date. He fixed his hair in the mirror, put on his favorite dress shirt, made his bed (you never know), and sprayed a new cologne to set the mood. Daniel, who, like others in this story, asked to only be identified by his first name, grabbed his glass of wine and placed it next to the laptop on his bedroom desk. Then he took a seat, opened up Zoom (an app more commonly used for workplace videoconferencing), and a few seconds later, his Hinge match appeared onscreen. It was immediately clear that he and his date were not on the same page: she was in her pajamas.

Last week, single folks in the United States who’d been chatting on dating apps and laying the groundwork for in-person first dates could no longer ignore the specter of the coronavirus crisis. And over the weekend, as the CDC issued instructions to begin social distancing, typical first-date haunts—bars, restaurants, music venues—became no-go zones for non-idiots. The alternative solution was imperfect but inevitable, really: Brave pioneers who didn’t want to give up on dating entirely pivoted to virtual meetups on video chat apps like Zoom, FaceTime, and Skype.

In Brooklyn, 27-year-old Judy Kwon spent a few days messaging a male suitor on a dating app. They scheduled a date to cook dinner together, which became unfeasible as COVID-19 morphed into a national emergency. Their initial video call was on Saturday; it was short, and leaned heavily on making funny faces to fill space. Then they talked again on Sunday. And again, for even longer, on Monday. On Tuesday night, they cooked separate meals, then FaceTimed while they ate dinner.

Judy admits it’s stressful not knowing when she’ll actually be able to meet a person whose virtual company has been a welcome respite. “There are obviously a lot of drawbacks to this, but at least for me, this [scenario] has prompted more serious conversations,” she says. “I’ve been vocal about how I feel, and I’ve asked him to do the same, because we can’t read each other the same way you would when you’re getting to know someone in-person. It’s made us more in touch with our feelings, for sure.”

In Denver, Zack Newman, a journalist who’s under self-quarantine after interacting with someone who tested positive for COVID-19, matched with a woman on Coffee Meets Bagel last week, and they texted each other increasingly long messages. On Monday, they decided to attempt a FaceTime date.

“This felt like a natural next step to keep the conversation going, and to keep my own optimism up,” he says. “In these times, continuing to date in some capacity is a really hopeful act. That would assume there’s a dating future worth pursuing, and I think there is. I’m trying to embody that as much as I can.”

Zack carried out his usual pre-date routine: A workout, a shower, and some date-worthy clothes (which he changed out of immediately afterwards). “You’re still making a first impression, and there was some comfort in that ritual,” he says. Daniel, who encountered the date in pajamas, says he put on a dress shirt and spritzed some cologne for the same reason—the ritual provided a sense of normalcy.

Zack and Daniel both went into their respective dates with some ice-breakers in mind. Basically, anything to distract from the pandemic. “It would be weird to not talk about it,” Zack says, “but I found that making a point of discussing other subjects was really helpful.” Daniel and his date swapped their respective lists of special talents, and she mentioned that she played the ukulele, which ultimately resulted in an impromptu karaoke session.