Well, I'm the lucky one here, because I am an excellent travel companion. I won't be passive-aggressive about picking a restaurant, or mind when I want to try on jeans for two hours instead of visiting a museum, and I can count on me not to tell anyone that my tweets about the amazing Gehry exhibit were sent from a Gap changing room. We're a great team, me and I. I'm braiding myself a friendship bracelet right now. I have a feeling I'm going to love it.
That being said, obviously I would ditch myself in a moment if an opportunity to meet real, non-self people comes up, but I doubt I'll be encountering many party animals to befriend in Palm Springs. I'm staying at a fairly decent hotel full of quiet people who presumably fled the comfort of their own homes for the very purpose of avoiding mingling; I personally chose it over a hostel for safety's sake but also because I have grown accustomed to a certain standard of pillow (stuffed with pegasus feathers, heated to 300 degrees Kelvin).
There's plenty to do in sunny California without a companion, anyways. Show me where in the vacation rulebook it says a single gal can't rent a tandem bike, receive a couple's massage, or order the lobster platter for two! I'm going to do all the things I want to do, alone, and who's going to stop me? My solo synchronized swimming will inspire envy, not pity. "No one's holding her back," on-lookers will say bitterly to their husbands."Look at her grace. I didn't even know you could do a back-flip in a hot tub. And now she's lying perfectly still underwater, even with that gaping wound in her head: what self-control!"
The best thing about traveling alone is that you can go to bed whenever you want! Immediately after dinner, during dinner; it's your call! The worst thing is either feeling awkward asking for a table for one, or realizing that no one will ever fully understand the experiences you're having, no matter how many pictures you take or letters you write, and those treasured memories of your adventure will disappear with you when you die, harsh evidence of the futility of human life,
Palm Springs, here I come!