Let Anderson have his fun, folks. He's going through that initial stage immediately following a teenager's first bout of recurring casual sex; the "I'm in on the secret of how great sex is and I'll bet you aren't" phase. Remember how you felt the first time you heard Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon? You thought to yourself, "Man, this is great. I'll bet I'm the only person who understands just how amazing this is."
Then, you find out your parent's listened to it many years before the inconsequential spec of protein in your dad's bojangles that would eventually become you even existed. Right now, the sex Anderson is having is all he thinks about. It doesn't matter the context of his surroundings; the only thing going through his mind is where would be the most convenient place to copulate next, and what kind of lies he could tell the girl in order to bring the relationship (read: fetish boundaries) to the next level. So, for now, we can excuse a certain amount of bolstering, for we are all guilty of it to some degree.
In a few weeks though, he'll come to, as though out of a bad hangover, and realize that anyone his age or older is well aware of how great sex is (well, sometimes is), and he'll stop bombarding us and his friends and probably his family with trapezical stories of his renegade sexploits. Hope you make it out alive, Anderson.
Thank god we won't have to listen to shit like this out of Murc for a while. He's still in the "seeing" stage.
Disclaimer: this post is to be taken in jest. I mean no ill will to Anderson; those of us wizened beyond his years will understand the truth to the pattern I detailed above, and know that it is something every guy goes through as a teenager. I love Anderson, and his girlfriend, and wish them many good times in the near future. And when she dumps your ass for some dude in the Air Force or Army or some shit, try not to take it personal.
Also, if you're reading this part of the post to begin with, good for you.