As the advice columnist for The Daily, I write under the pseudonym of Coquette. My persona has a bit of a reputation, but still, no one knows my real name, and none of my friends or family know that I write an advice column. I love my anonymity. It allows me a brutally honest style I wouldn’t be able to use otherwise. How do you think Social Q’s would be different if you wrote it anonymously? Can you think of a time when there was something you wanted to write but didn’t because of your byline?

No question, hidden identity makes it much easier to share our mortifying gaffes with the rest of the world. But I’m pretty shameless in that department, and not shy about sharing a humiliation (or three) — in the column or my new book, “Social Q’s.” I mean, we’ve all had them, right? (Or am I the only person who’s ever been caught lip-synching to Lady Gaga in his underpants in the changing room at Barneys?)

But let’s face it, Coquette: You are practically the headmistress of Tough Love Academy — which is what makes your column so damn entertaining. I try to limit my bitch-slaps to the seriously selfish Sues and Sams — and generally go for a more compassionate vibe. So anonymity probably isn’t as critical for me as you. There are fewer people out to get me!

In your chapter on dealing with bosses, you talk about how “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” was one of the first sitcoms to explore the “family dynamics” of the workplace. That show was ahead of its time when it came to social issues, so I’m curious: If we lived in a TV time warp, what would be your advice to Mary if she wanted to participate in the Occupy Wall Street protests against Lou’s wishes?

Love it, Coquette — a fertile imagination at work!

Here’s my fantasy about how Mary Tyler Moore’s “Occupy Wall Street” episode would play out: Mary begs to cover the story for the 6 o’clock news. But Lou, her boss, says “No!” — grouchy from a hangover or some tense call with his ex-wife. But Mary is not deterred. She concocts a fib to get Murray and Ted downtown with her: pretending that Lou approved the story or assigned them one nearby. Of course, Mary lands an amazing piece, which goes national — but simultaneously exposes her disobedience to Lou, who is both pissed at her but also Proud Poppa.

Here’s the thing about bosses (and since I had one who appeared on Newsweek’s list of “Ten Worst Bosses in America,” I should know): The problem for us employees comes when we stop speaking our minds. Disagree (respectfully) until the cows come home — even if your boss keeps shooting you down. But once you’re not free to do that, I have just three words for you: “Monster. Dot. Com.”

In your chapter on neighbors and roomies, a gay man asked you what to do after pulling up a couple of lawn signs from a neighbor who was openly campaigning for a constitutional ban on gay marriage. You told him to return the signs and apologize. I had a hard time reading that bit of advice. Sure, stealing the signs was a petty act of suburban vigilantism, but I can’t help feel that the larger wrong is openly campaigning for something as hateful and ignorant as a ban on gay marriage. If you were in that man’s position, could you honestly tell me you would have returned those lawn signs?

Listen, as a gay man, I want nothing more than a federal right for every man and woman in this nation to marry whomever we want. But that’s about convincing folks who aren’t so sure (or disagree) that it’s the fair and humane result — not about stealing lawn signs.

Majorities rule here. And when it comes to gay marriage, we’re still putting one together. So I’m sticking with my original advice: Go talk to your neighbor as respectfully (and passionately) as you can. Ask them to support our position and take down their nasty signs. But if they refuse (and remember: it’s their right to), we’ve got to suck it up — and start working on the neighbors across the street, pronto!

My readers are always asking me whom I talk to when I need advice. It’s one of the questions I get most often, and yet I never know what to say. Sometimes I think they want me to tell them about a wise old Chinese man who lives in the boiler room of the SoHo House, but the truth is, I don’t have a guru, I don’t have a shrink, and I stopped asking my parents for their opinions years ago. I’m kind of curious how you would handle that question. Whom do you talk to when you need advice?

I get this one all the time too! But I usually go with Christina Aguilera and “Genie in a Bottle.” (Think people asked Dear Abby about her advisers?)

I don’t seek much outside help, either. But here’s my process: I choose the four questions I’m going to answer that week (from the hundreds that roll in), and noodle over them while I’m having my coffee in the morning. Then I take my excellent dog, Chiccio, for a long walk by the sea — and let my mind turn over the questions without thinking too hard about them. And when I get back to my desk, I’m usually ready to get to work in earnest.

Of course, sometimes my boyfriend or editor or an excellent reader (or 400) will point out the obvious error of my advice. But the way I see it, Coquette, we’re paid to start conversations — not to be the final word.

What do you love most about writing Social Q’s (both the column and the book), and what has been your most satisfying interaction with one of your readers?

I love everything about writing Social Q’s — except that I only get to answer four questions a week. I get so many more, plus amazing commentary from readers.

So the incredibly satisfying thing about writing my new “Social Q’s” book was printing out all those emails (thousands of them!) and sorting them into categories: Facebook fiascos, dating disasters, money matters, your mother (just sayin’). And for each topic, I came up with a series of principles for dealing with it: parlor tricks and funny mnemonics, Cosmo quizzes and even simple math equations. (And for a certified math moron, that was a real accomplishment!) So the book is my take on the 20 stickiest areas of modern life, together with all kinds of approaches for handling them.

As for interactions with readers, this may sound perverse, but the most satisfying ones are the emails that start: “Screw you, Philip” — but rather than raging back at them, I answer calmly. And before you know it, we’re having a nice conversation. It makes me proud of Social Q’s — and also semi-excused for when I (inevitably) pull a “Raging Bull” and lose it with someone!